Jimmy O'Bannon: The Adventure Begins
by JJ Rust
Summary: American wizard Jimmy O'Bannon struggles to fit in at Hogwarts.  But when he introduces the students to a Muggle game, it not only gains him friends, it may help them unite against a growing evil.  For this is the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
1. Two Worlds

**CHAPTER 1: TWO WORLDS**

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><p><em>Do I really know what I'm doing here?<em>

Fifteen-year-old Jimmy O'Bannon sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the book in his lap. _Hogwarts: A History. _A week from now he'd actually be at that school. He should be psyched. He'd been psyched all summer, looking at his trip across the ocean as a big, exciting adventure.

But now that he could count down the handful of days that remained until he left for Britain, second thoughts crept into his mind. His teachers told him to expect a bigger workload and a more disciplined environment at Hogwarts than he'd known at the Salem Witches Institute. Could he deal with that? Would he be able to make friends as easily in Britain as he had when he first entered Salem?

_Maybe I should've thought about all this before I spent last year working my ass off to win that exchange student competition._

Someone knocked on his bedroom door.

"Yeah."

The door opened. A woman with coiffed dark hair and glasses entered. "Jimmy. Could you give your father a hand putting the drinks in the cooler?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," he told his mother.

Her forehead crinkled as she stared at him. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah."

Mom frowned and tilted her head, showing she didn't believe him. "Jimmy, you're going to spend nearly a year in another country. I think anyone would be nervous."

"Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous. But, you know, it's like baseball players or hockey players who say they're nervous on opening day. I'll be fine."

That seemed to satisfy Mom . . . he hoped. She could be a big-time worrier. The last thing he wanted was for her to know he was way more than a little nervous about going to England.

"I'll be down in a sec," he added.

"Okay." Mom nodded and left.

O'Bannon got up and tossed _Hogwarts: A History_ onto the bed. He scanned the posters around his room. It was an interesting mix of magical ones and Muggle ones. A group of men and women clutched brooms and struck dramatic poses as the wind whipped their hair and robes. The Boston Bandits of the United States Quidditch Association. Two posters showed Bandits Chaser Melanie Mosbey dodging Bludgers as she streaked toward the goal, and Keeper Edson Janks knocking away a Quaffle. Other posters did not move. Those showed some of his favorite Muggle athletes, like Nomar Garciaparra of the Red Sox and Bruins legend Bobby Orr.

_Just keeping a foot in two worlds. _O'Bannon had heard stories of Muggle-borns becoming so enamored with the Wizarding World they completely turned their backs on the Muggle World. He was determined not to let that happen.

He started toward the door, glancing at his reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. A round face crowned by conservatively-combed brown hair stared back at him. His lip curled for a moment. While most people wouldn't consider him short, he still hoped this next year would see him grow another inch or two, or three. He had a lean, solid build, but wanted to put on more muscle. O'Bannon held his own quite well on the ice at 5'9 and a buck fifty-five. But he could be a much better hockey player at six-foot and 170 pounds.

He headed downstairs and into the kitchen, where Dad directed him to take the drinks out of the fridge and put them in the cooler on the back patio. He just shoved the last soda can into the ice when a gusher of green flame exploded from the fireplace. Mom jumped and put a hand over her chest, then relaxed. It was a vast improvement over her earlier reactions to Floo travel, when she freaked out and worried the whole house might burn down.

A girl with an athletic build, smooth tan skin, shoulder-length dark hair and diamond-shaped earrings that glowed red and white stepped out of the flames. Right behind her came a boy shorter than O'Bannon, but with a stocky build and curly black hair. He looked around the house, scrunching his face.

"What the heck kinda party is this? This place is deader than Salem during summertime."

"Ha ha." O'Bannon walked over to him. "You're the first ones here. Everyone else'll be showing up in a few minutes."

"Or everyone's just blowing you off." The boy laughed at his own joke.

The girl smacked him on the shoulder. "Oh shut up. You're not as funny as you think."

O'Bannon smiled. "Glad you two could make it."

Rosa Infante smiled back and wrapped him up in a tight hug. "Like we'd really let you go off to England without saying good-bye. Especially since we'll be back at school when you leave."

"Yeah, man," said Rosa's cousin, Jared Diaz. "I can't believe you're not gonna be around for a whole year. Salem's gonna be friggin' boring without you."

"You'll survive." He clasped hands with Jared. They pounded one another on the back. That's when O'Bannon noticed two men step out of the fireplace. One big, bald and muscular, the other tall and stout with a goatee.

"Hey, Mister Diaz. Mister Infante." He went over to greet Jared's father and Rosa's father. "Where's Mrs. Diaz and Mrs. Infante?"

"They have some auror business to tend to," Mr. Infante answered.

"Yeah, but don't worry," Rosa said. "They promised they'd get here as soon as possible. They want to say good-bye to you, too."

O'Bannon smiled. He'd grown very fond of Jared's and Rosa's parents ever since first meeting them five years ago. Often times, he felt like an honorary member of their family. Plus their parents had wicked cool jobs. Rosa's mom and dad and Jared's mom were aurors, whom he likened to a Wizarding version of a SWAT team. Half of Rosa's and Jared's family served in the U.S. Aurors Bureau. Even the ones who weren't aurors had risky jobs. Jared's brother, Esteban, worked as a Curse-Breaker, and their father led an elite group of wizards and witches that dealt with dangerous magical creatures like werewolves and wendigos.

Sometimes O'Bannon wondered if he had it in him to do that kind of stuff. What he lacked in size he made up for in toughness. He never backed down from a fight on the ice, no matter how big the other guy was. But he doubted a hockey fight could compare to taking on a werewolf or a dark wizard.

Mom and Dad came out to greet them, and showed them where they'd set out the food and drinks. Jared's eyes nearly popped out of his head when he spotted a white cardboard box with red trim and lettering.

"Dude, you got Dunkin' Donuts!"

"'Course I did. I always take care of my best bro."

Jared turned and high-fived him before rushing over to the box.

"It takes so little to make that boy happy." Mr. Diaz grinned and shook his head.

Floo flames poured out of the fireplace every couple of minutes, discharging more and more young witches and wizards. All classmates of O'Bannon's at Salem. Gregory Lancemore, the school's resident ladies man and newly-minted captain of the Blazenrowe Hall Quidditch Team. Dante Marshall, a teammate from Blazenrowe's hockey team. Ursa Oberlin and her best friend Cindy Walker. Penelope Hale. Eli Witting. Abigail Aguirre. Mario Hernandez. They shook O'Bannon's hand or hugged him or slapped him the back.

"So do you think Hogwarts has a hockey team?" Dante asked half-jokingly.

"Yeah right. How many magical schools besides ours even have a Muggle sport?"

Dante shrugged. "Well then, it looks like you're gonna have to start up your own team over there. I don't know how you're gonna last a whole year without hockey."

O'Bannon stifled another laugh. Even if he'd been going to a Muggle boarding school over there, he wouldn't seriously consider Dante's idea. England wasn't exactly a hotbed for hockey.

He noticed Cindy Walker coming out of the kitchen, holding a plastic plate with a small turkey and cheese sandwich and some chips. She chuckled softly to herself.

"What's so funny?" O'Bannon asked.

"Ursa. She's fascinated by your microwave. Her and Eli were watching your mom heat up some pizza rolls. Then Ursa asked how Muggles can fit a whole pizza into a little roll."

O'Bannon grinned and shook his head. "Purebloods."

Both he and Cindy laughed. So did Dante, since he was a half-blood with a Muggle-born father.

"By the way." O'Bannon rested a hand on Cindy's shoulder. "I wanna thank you again for helping me with Potions. I never would've got an Exceeds Expectations and qualified to study abroad if it wasn't for you."

_Maybe you shouldn't have asked her for help. Maybe you should've gotten your usual Acceptable score and stayed here for Sixth Year._

He clenched his teeth, trying to push down his anxiety.

"Well how could you not get at least an Exceeds Expectations when you've got the smartest witch in school helping you?" Dante said.

An embarrassed smile formed on Cindy's face. "Thanks, guys. It was no problem, Jimmy. I was glad to help. Just do me a favor and make all us Muggle-borns proud when you're over there."

"You know it." That had been another reason he worked so hard to go to Hogwarts. While things had improved for Muggle-borns in the US over the past seventy years, there still existed many purebloods who didn't consider people like him and Cindy "true wizards and witches." O'Bannon hoped winning the competition and doing well at Hogwarts would help change that perception.

Another burst of Floo flames came from the fireplace. Out stepped a tall boy with an angular face and brown hair.

"Artimus!" O'Bannon went over and slapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Hey, Jimmy," he flashed him a quick smile.

Rosa and Jared called out to Artimus Rand and bounded over to him.

"So your old man let you come over here, huh?" asked Jared.

"Yeah. Well, my step-mom convinced him to let me come."

O'Bannon nodded, but felt a spark of anger. Artimus came from one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in New England. His father, Ulysses, owned a chain of magical supply stores. Elitist snob was about the nicest thing O'Bannon could say about him. Mr. Rand looked down his nose at anyone not as rich as him, and didn't think too highly of Muggle-borns.

_He also doesn't think too highly of his own son._

"C'mon, man." O'Bannon put an arm around Artimus' shoulder. "We got plenty of food, I'm gonna show everyone a couple _Monty Python _episodes. Get me ready for being in England. Know what I mean, know what I mean? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Say no more, say no more."

Artimus emitted a barely audible laugh.

"And mingle, okay?"

He turned Artimus toward some of their classmates and got him to wave. They politely smiled and waved back.

O'Bannon frowned. That was probably the most reaction Art would get from them. Outside of him, Jared and Rosa, Artimus didn't really have any other friends at Salem. The three of them had spent the past five years trying to get him to come out of his shell. To this point, their efforts had changed Art from painfully shy to just shy.

Everybody talked and dug into the platters Mom and Dad set out, with Jared trying to convince Abigail about the greatness of Dunkin' Donuts. Ursa talked about how tough her Sixth Year schedule looked, while Mario asked about O'Bannon's schedule for Hogwarts.

"It looks pretty much like what I'd have at Salem, except I don't have to take Arithmancy or Divination, thank God." Arithmancy, which delved into the magical properties of numbers, had been a pain in the ass for him because of all the damn charts involved. Divination was, simply put, a load of BS. His teacher, Miss Vomstam . . . well, to call her a charlatan would be an insult to legitimate charlatan.

"Well it's too bad you won't be around to see Blazenrowe win the Quidditch championship this year," Gregory said.

"Blazenrowe?" Abigail walked over to them, holding a half-eaten Lemon Crème Donut. "You better not count out Jingosocke Hall."

"C'mon on, Abs. I take nothing away from your ability as a Seeker." Gregory beamed at her. O'Bannon swore Abigail blushed.

_Damn, that guy is smooth._

"But, Rana and her boyfriend are over in England right now for the World Cup." Gregory referred to Rana Rollingsworth, Blazenrowe's Seeker, and Darius Forten, one of the team's Beaters. "And Rana's parents own the Boston Bandits, so you know they'll have connections with some of those national players. Just think about all the great pointers Rana and Darius are going to pick up, especially if Rana runs into that big-time Seeker from Bulgaria, Krum. We'll be unbeatable."

"Man, those guys are so lucky." Jared joined them, taking a final bite of his donut. "Quidditch World Cup. Makes me wish I was Rana's boyfriend, then I'd be over there, too."

"Hah!" Rosa barked. "The only way you'd ever be Rana's boyfriend is if you used an Imperius Curse on her, and even then she'd probably resist it and tell you 'no'."

Ursa, Abigail and Penelope all laughed.

Even O'Bannon had to grin. Heck, what guy at Salem wouldn't want to be Rana Rollingsworth's boyfriend. Aside from having famous parents, she was gorgeous, outgoing, blessed with a great sense of humor, loved sports - even Muggle ones – and best of all, was one of the nicest witches at school.

_Heck, if she was single and I was single, I might ask her out. _

Speaking of girlfriends, he wondered where –

Another burst of Floo flames came from the fireplace. Something fluttered in O'Bannon's chest when he saw a short, slender witch with a clear complexion and jet black hair that fell past her shoulders.

"Penny!" He strode out of the kitchen, a smile on his face.

Penny Nichols turned to him. "Hey, Jimmy."

The words barely left her mouth when he took her by the shoulders and kissed her.

Jared cut loose with a loud wolf whistle. Rosa smacked him upside the head. "Grow up, for Merlin's sake."

Jared rubbed his head and glared at his cousin. Mr. Diaz and Mr. Infante both looked to Rosa and nodded with approval.

"Sorry I'm late," Penny said.

"Don't worry about it. Heck, the party's just getting into full swing." Placing a hand on her back, O'Bannon guided her toward the kitchen. "We got plenty of food, so help yourself."

"Do you have anything to drink?"

"Yeah, there's a cooler out on the back patio. We got soda, iced tea, even a few bottles of butterbeer."

"Thanks. I'll be back in a sec."

O'Bannon watched her go through the sliding door that led outside. _It's gonna be almost a whole year before I see her again._

He clenched his teeth. Yeah, he'd thought about spending all that time away from her in the months leading up to Headmistress Esmeralda selecting him. But it just seemed so . . . distant at the time. Now, with only a week to go until he left, he felt an ache in his heart whenever he thought of Penny or wrote to her or looked at her picture. Again he asked himself, _do I really know what I'm doing?_

"So, getting excited for your trip to England?"

O'Bannon turned and found Mr. Infante standing next to him.

"Um, yeah. Heck, yeah. Who wouldn't be pumped to go to a school like Hogwarts?" He hoped he sounded convincing. He didn't want to let any of the adults know how truly nervous he was.

He chatted with Rosa's father for a few minutes before the man headed off to throw away his empty plate. O'Bannon checked around the kitchen to find Penny, but didn't see her. His brow furrowed. It shouldn't take this long to get a drink from the cooler.

He went over to the sliding door and stepped outside. In the yellowish glow of the porch light, he found Penny sitting in one of the plastic chairs on the patio, holding a bottle of butterbeer and staring out at the darkened backyard.

"Penny? You okay there?"

She turned toward him, unsmiling. She let out a sigh. "It's going to be almost a year before we see each other again."

O'Bannon frowned. "I know."

"That's all you have to say? 'I know'?"

"What do you want me to say, Penny? We talked about this before. We promised we'd wait for each other."

"But a year? It's gonna be like forever. Why do you have to go? Why can't you tell everyone you changed your mind?"

That sounded tempting, especially coming from his girlfriend. Maybe he should do it.

Then he thought about how hard he worked all of Fifth Year to keep his grades up, while still playing hockey and participating in Dueling Club. He'd gotten his schedule from Hogwarts, had all his books owled to him, gotten his passport and completed all the other necessary paperwork. Heck, his parents even bought him a new set of dress robes as requested by the Hogwarts deputy headmistress, a Professor McGonagall. And he hated clothes shopping, unless it was for T-shirts and sweatshirts with sports-related themes.

Something else kept him from giving in to all his doubts and fears, something he'd learned from his years playing sports. No matter if his team was behind, no matter if the players on the opposing team were bigger than him, no matter how bad things looked, he never quit. Ever!

And backing out of going to Hogwarts at this point would be quitting.

"Everything's all set for me to go to Hogwarts. C'mon, this is important to me."

Penny's thin eyebrows scrunched together as she stood. "I thought I was important to you."

"You are. You're my girlfriend."

"But right now Hogwarts is way more important."

"Penny . . ." He looked up to the sky in frustration, then took a breath and stepped over to her. "Look, I don't want to argue with you about this, not tonight. I promise I'll write you all the time, and maybe before I leave we can spend the day at Milmothryn Market, just the two of us. Okay?"

"Okay." Penny said without looking at him.

O'Bannon smiled and kissed her on the temple. That got her to turn and look at him. That's when he kissed her full on the lips. A long kiss, one that –

"Yo, Jimmy. I . . . Whoa!"

O'Bannon whipped his head around to find Jared standing in the doorway. "Dude!"

"Um, sorry, man. Um, your mom wanted me to come get you. She's bringing out your good-bye cake."

O'Bannon let out an annoyed breath. "All right, I'm coming."

Taking Penny by the hand, he followed Jared back inside the house. Mom had put out a white ice cream cake with chocolate crumb pieces lining the sides and the British Union Jack flag made of blue, red and white frosting in the center. Black icing around the flag spelled out the words "Bon Voyage Jimmy."

"So Mrs. O'Bannon." Eli's eyes flickered between her and the cake. "Muggles can really turn ice cream into a cake?"

"Well, I don't know about turning it into a cake. They just make it out of ice cream."

Eli's eyes widened. Ursa and Mario also looked astonished by this.

"That is wicked cool," Eli said. "We gotta tell Mister Lymstock about this when we go back to school."

Eli referred to Salem's Muggle Studies teacher. Being Muggle-born, O'Bannon obviously never took the class. But from everything he'd heard about Mr. Lymstock, the guy couldn't tell the difference between a toaster oven and a lawnmower.

_Some Muggle Studies teacher._

Everyone dug into the ice cream cake. He noticed his pureblood friends really enjoying it, and raving about it. O'Bannon grinned. Just one small way for him to give those who grew up in the magical world a way to appreciate what the Muggle World had to offer. It would be nice if he could do more, but what could a fifteen-year-old wizard do to really change purebloods' view of the Muggle World?

He was about to get a second helping of cake when Floo flames shot out the fireplace. Out stepped two witches, one stocky with brown hair, the other slender and attractive with long black hair.

"Hey, you finally made it," Jared said to his mother, Liana Diaz, and his aunt, and Rosa's mom, Adelaide Infante.

"Sorry, everyone," Mrs. Diaz said. "We had some things to finish up at work that took longer than expected."

She and Mrs. Infante came over and hugged O'Bannon.

"So, looking forward to going to Hogwarts?" asked Rosa's mom.

"You kiddin'? The most famous wizarding school in the world. The school run by Albus Dumbledore. The school where Harry Potter goes to. Who wouldn't be psyched to go?"

Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Penny frown.

"Well, you're both just in time," said Mr. Diaz. "You have to have some of this cake Jimmy's parents got. It's actually made of ice cream."

"An ice cream cake?" Mrs. Infante sounded amazed. "Well I definitely have to try that."

"I'll get a piece in a bit." Mrs. Diaz turned to O'Bannon. "Jimmy, may I talk to you for a minute?" She lowered her voice. "Alone."

"Um, sure." He led her to the sliding door, wondering what this could be about.

They stepped onto the patio. When O'Bannon shut the sliding door behind them, Mrs. Diaz said. "So, are you nervous about going to England?"

"Um, no. No, I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Mrs. Diaz's tone indicated that she didn't believe him.

He frowned. "What, you reading my mind?"

Mrs. Diaz chuckled. "I don't need Legilimency to know how nervous you are. The week before I left to begin auror training, I was an utter wreck. But I got through it, and I firmly believe you will, too."

"Thanks." He smiled, feeling a little bit better by her encouragement.

Mrs. Diaz bit her lower lip, then looked down at the patio.

"Um, Mrs. Diaz? Is everything all right?"

She looked back up at him and took a deep breath. "There was a reason why Adelaide and I were late to your party. We received word from the US wizarding ambassador to Britain." She paused. "There was an attack at the Quidditch World Cup."

"An attack?" O'Bannon felt his chest tighten. "Oh my God. Rana and Darius are there. And Headmistress Esmeralda and some of the Salem teachers. Are they -"

"They're fine." Mrs. Diaz held up both hands in a calming gesture. "They're all fine. There were several injuries, but none of them were fatal."

"But who attacked the World Cup? And why would they do it?"

Again, Mrs. Diaz bit her lip. "All indications are that it was a group of Death Eaters."

O'Bannon's jaw dropped. "D-Death Eaters? I thought most of them were killed or locked up after You-Know-Who died, and the rest went into hiding. Are . . . are they coming back?" He'd learned all about Death Eaters not just from History of Magic class, but from Jared's and Rosa's parents and his own independent reading at the Salem library. Basically, take Hitler's SS, give them magical powers, and you've got Death Eaters.

_Not the kind of people I'd want to run into._

"We don't think so. We think this is probably an isolated incident. Still, many wizarding governments around the world are on alert for any sign of renewed Death Eater activity, just in case."

O'Bannon let out a sardonic laugh. "Well this'll make going to England fun."

"Jimmy." Mrs. Diaz gave him a sympathetic smile. "I didn't tell you this to worry you. From the way the British talk, it sounds like a bunch of former Death Eaters had too much to drink and got rowdy. I suspect they'll go back to lying low from now on. Even if they do try any more attacks, Hogwarts is one of the best protected magical schools in the world. It would take a lot for any Death Eater to even scratch its security wards and charms. But I just want you to be aware of what happened, and keep it in the back of your mind while you're over in England. If you find yourself outside Hogwarts, keep an extra eye out for anything suspicious, and report it to one of your teachers."

"You got it." O'Bannon felt glad he was one of the best students in his year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He just hoped that would come in handy if he ever found himself face-to-face with a Death Eater.

Mrs. Diaz gave him a sympathetic smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Somehow I doubt you'll come within a hundred miles of a Death Eater while you're over in England."

O'Bannon smiled back. He figured Mrs. Diaz knew what she was talking about. The woman was an auror, for Merlin's sake. Plus in all the years he'd known her, she'd always been straight with him. If she really felt he'd be in danger, she'd tell him. Besides, even in the Muggle World, there were still little groups of Nazis around. Every once in a while they did something that made headlines. Most times, though, they kept to themselves. It was probably the same with this bunch of Death Eaters.

He shook off his stupid fears about Death Eaters. He had more important things to worry about, like doing well at Hogwarts, and hoping his and Penny's relationship could survive being apart from each other for a year.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	2. Encounter of the Serpentine Kind

**CHAPTER 2: ****ENCOUNTER OF THE SERPENTINE KIND**

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><p>O'Bannon really, really wished the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic didn't exist. Then he could pick up his wand, cast a Reductor Curse, and blow his damn alarm clock to smithereens. Then he'd cast another Reductor Curse and blow the smithereens to smithereens.<p>

He stared at the red digital numbers through the narrow slits of his eyelids. 3:15. Three friggin' fifteen in the friggin' morning. What moron gets up at this time?

_I do. Damn time difference._

The nasally wail drilled into his ears. O'Bannon reached out and pounded the damn alarm clock until it shut up. Five minutes later, he pushed himself out of bed and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom before getting dressed. He trudged down the stairs, still half-asleep, and found his father in the kitchen drinking coffee.

"Morning, Jimmy."

"Urrrrr," he growled.

"Do you want anything to eat?"

"Urrrrr."

"Did they teach you to speak Troll at Salem?"

"Urrrr."

O'Bannon got himself a couple slices of toast, two bowls of instant oatmeal, a banana and a glass of orange juice. After eating all that, he started to feel human again.

It also sank in why he was up so damn early in the morning.

_I'm going to England today._

The anxiety returned. Breakfast didn't sit too well in his stomach. His heart pounded like mad as he and his parents put his luggage into the minivan. He sat quietly in the back, clutching the cage that held Espo, his gold and black Crested Owl named after Boston Bruins legend Phil Esposito.

_At least I've got one friend going with me._

He grinned, thinking about Jared and Rosa and Artimus and Gregory and Dante and Rana and all his other friends, now in their third day of classes at the Salem Witches Institute.

And of course, he thought a lot about Penny.

He leaned back in his seat as Dad pulled out of the driveway and drove through the darkened streets of their suburban neighborhood. He and Penny had met up in Milmothryn Market the day before she left for Salem. It had been a good day, sharing ice cream at Yum-Tum's Sweets and Delectables, watching broom demonstrations at Bromley's Best Broom Bazaar, and ducking into alcoves to make out. It was an emotional good-bye, with Penny crying into his shoulder, but they didn't argue about him going to Hogwarts like he feared they might. In fact, she wished him good luck and promised to write him all the time.

Yeah, things were good between him and Penny again.

They didn't have to drive far. Just two blocks, to a pond in a small wooded area, the pond where he skated and played hockey on every winter since he was four. The minivan's headlights swept over two figures standing by the bank. Mr. and Mrs. Infante. He and his parents greeted them as they got out and unloaded his luggage.

"Are you sure you still want to take your hockey stick?" asked Mom.

"Heck yeah. I'm a hockey player. Where I go, my stick goes."

"Are you even going to use it in England?"

"Sure. If I got some time on my hands I can just freeze a pond and bat around some pucks."

Even in the early morning darkness, O'Bannon could see his mother's face tighten in that uncomfortable look she normally got when he told her about the things he could do with a wand. The reaction still bothered him.

_You'd think after almost six years she'd be used to this stuff by now._

But, he figured, it had to be hard for a normal person to totally comprehend being able to turn a pond to solid ice with a single word.

"Thanks for coming out here so early to help Jimmy," Dad said to the Infantes.

"Don't mention it, Douglas." Mr. Infante gave him a dismissive wave. "This is Jimmy's first time traveling by port key, and we just wanted to make sure everything goes smoothly."

"Is this port key thing safe?" Mom asked.

"Mooooom." O'Bannon rolled his eyes.

"It's perfectly safe, Ellen," Mrs. Infante told her before turning to him. "You ready, Jimmy?"

He took a deep breath, his heart slamming against his chest. "Uh, yeah." He straightened himself up. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Mrs. Infante smiled and waved him to come over. She put an arm around his shoulder and led him further down the bank. "Now, all you need to do is place one finger on the port key. You'll be magically attached to it, so don't worry about being thrown off. You're going to feel a lot of wind and you'll probably have the sensation of hurtling through the air. But you'll be fine. And remember, when you start to feel the wind die down, relax. If you're too tense, or you panic, you're going to wind up falling on your rear-end. Got it?"

"Yeah. Kinda sounds like being on a rollercoaster."

"A what?" Mrs. Infante wore a perplexed look.

"Um, nothing."

She nodded. "Okay. Oh! That looks like it there." She pulled out her wand. The tip glowed brightly as she pointed it to the ground.

O'Bannon saw an old, chipped maroon flower pot lying on its side.

"That's the port key, all right," said Mr. Infante.

"_That's _the port key?" Dad gave the flower pot a baffled look, then turned to Mr. Infante. "Really?"

"Oh yes. We commonly disguise port keys as discarded Muggle objects, that way Muggles won't take an interest in them and accidentally pick them up."

O'Bannon stared at the flower pot/port key, apprehension twisting his stomach into painful knots. "Well, I guess this is it."

He turned to Mrs. Infante, who smiled and hugged him. "Good luck, Jimmy. Do us proud."

"I will."

Mr. Infante also wished him luck and slapped him on the shoulder. O'Bannon then headed over to his parents.

"Good luck in England." Dad gave him a manly hug. "You'll be fine."

"Thanks." He turned to his mother, who had a tear running down her cheek.

"You got your wallet and passport?"

"Yes, Mom." O'Bannon pulled them both out of his robes and showed them to her.

"And you have all your British magic money?"

"Yes, Mom. I have everything. We double and triple-checked, remember?"

Mom nodded, then hugged him and pecked him on the cheek. "Take care. Be careful over there. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." A lump formed in his throat. It dawned on him that he would not be coming home for Christmas Break. He'd be at Hogwarts the entire school year.

With some reluctance, he let go of Mom and walked over to the port key. Mr. Infante cast a charm to magically tether his luggage to him.

"There, you're all set."

"Thanks." O'Bannon tensed, took one final look at his parents and the Infantes, then turned back to the port key. He drew a slow, deep breath.

"Well, England here I come."

He reached down, his index finger hovering over the flower pot. Jaw clenched, he touched the lip of it.

A great force yanked him forward. The pond and everything around it vanished in a blur. He opened his mouth, but couldn't tell if he was screaming over the hurricane winds.

_This was a mistake. This was a mistake. _He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

That's when the wind died down.

_Relax! Relax!_

His entire body remained tense as he felt the ground under his feet. The world spun wildly. He staggered and fell.

Everything came into focus. He found himself on a grassy hill with blue sky and the sun overhead. He pushed himself to his feet, feeling lightheaded. His stomach swirled and swirled until . . .

"Oh crap!"

O'Bannon doubled over and threw up his entire breakfast. He hacked a couple times and stood up, starting to feel better, though a hot, stale taste filled his mouth.

"Well this trip's off to a great start."

A sharp crack came from behind him. He turned around to find a portly, dark-haired, unsmiling wizard in his late twenties standing a few feet away.

_Must have Apparated here._

O'Bannon straightened up and walked over to him. "Hey. How are you doing?" He stuck out his hand.

The wizard appeared not to notice. "Name?" he demanded.

"Um, Jimmy O'Bannon."

The wizard raised a clipboard to his face. "I have a James Michael O'Bannon listed."

"Yeah, that's me."

The wizard looked at him as though he were lying. "Passport."

He handed it over to him. The wizard tapped it a couple times with his wand, nodded, and handed it back to O'Bannon. Words appeared under his moving photograph. _The Ministry of Magic hereby grants permission to James Michael O'Bannon, a wizarding citizen of the United States of America, to move freely within the borders of the United Kingdom._

"My name is Forman Fordyce of the Office of Documentation of International Magical Visitors. You are in Britain to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for this school year, correct?"

"Uh-huh."

Fordyce checked his clipboard and nodded. "Very well. I have been assigned to transport you to King Cross and escort you to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, where you will board the Hogwarts Express."

"Uh, sounds good," O'Bannon said, noting the wizard's flat, clipped tone. Street signs had more personality than this guy.

"Have you ever side-along Apparated before?" Fordyce asked him.

"Yeah, a few times with my friends' parents when we've gone to Quidditch games back in America."

Fordyce looked like he hadn't been interested in anything O'Bannon had said after, "Yeah."

"Be sure all your possessions are secured, then take hold of my sleeve."

O'Bannon checked his Tether Charm. Still working fine. He clutched Fordyce's sleeve and braced himself.

The world went dark. He felt his body being pulled in every direction at once.

In an instant, it was over. He looked around and found himself in a public restroom. A Muggle public restroom.

"Nice place."

Fordyce didn't react at all to the little joke. "This way." He headed for the door.

"Um, could you hang on a sec?"

Fordyce sighed heavily, an impatient look on his face. O'Bannon was about to apologize, but decided against it. Why waste a perfectly good apology on someone so unfriendly?

He went over to the sink and sucked in a couple handfuls of water. He swished it around his mouth and spat it out. That got rid of most of the vomit taste that lingered in his mouth.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Fordyce groaned and exited the restroom. O'Bannon followed. They found a cart for his luggage and set off. The station was crowded with people going to and fro, many gazing straight ahead, as though focused solely on where they needed to go. Several kiosks had been set up, selling newspapers and magazines and snacks and drinks and other things. Informational signs and advertisements hung on the walls.

All in all, King's Cross wasn't much different from a typical train station in America.

That actually disappointed O'Bannon. Being in a whole other country, he kind of expected . . . more.

_What do you want? Portraits of Queen Elizabeth and Winston Churchill lining the walls? _It was a train station. Who goes all out to decorate a train station?

He continued to follow Fordyce through King's Cross, scanning the signs denoting the platforms. Platform Five. Platform Six. Platform Seven. By this time he noticed a few other boys and girls his age or younger pushing carts loaded with luggage, which in some cases, included cages with owls.

_Guess we're on the right path._

He picked up his pace. His heart raced again. This time from excitement, not nervousness. Why should he be nervous? He was actually in England now. He'd soon be on this Hogwarts Express heading to one of the most renowned magical schools in the world. He could really look forward to this experience, an experience, he hoped, would be one he'd never forget.

O'Bannon rolled his cart past Platform Nine. Further ahead, he saw a sign for Platform Ten. He scanned for a sign that said Platform Nine-and-Three Quarters, but couldn't find one.

That's when he spotted a tall boy with pale skin, a pointed face, and white-blond hair running full tilt while pushing his cart. Just when it looked as though he'd crash into the dividing barrier between the two platforms, he vanished.

"Okay, so that's how they do it here."

Fordyce turned to him. "Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters is there." He pointed to the barrier. "Think you can manage?"  
>He peered around the wizard and saw a short, unsmiling girl with dark hair disappear through the barrier.<p>

"Yeah, I'm good."

Fordyce nodded. "Then I'll take my leave."

"Well, th-"

Fordyce Apparated.

O'Bannon stared at the spot the wizard and been standing not more than a second ago. "Thanks for your help," he finished the sentence anyway, adding, "Jagoff."

He pushed his cart toward the barrier when a young, athletic-looking witch with curled brown hair falling past her shoulders cut in front of him.

"Oops. Sorry," she apologized.

"No problem. After you."

The witch gave him a curious look.

_Probably the accent. _O'Bannon doubted Hogwarts got very many Americans, especially ones with the distinct lack-of-the-letter-R New England accent.

"Thank you," the witch smiled at him.

He smiled back, noting how attractive she was.

_Yo, O'Bannon. Penny Nichols. Girlfriend back at Salem._

He turned his gaze away from the brown-haired witch as she ran toward the barrier. _Jeez, you haven't been in this country fifteen minutes and you're already scoping out the local babes._

_Just remember, looking is fine. It's the touching part that'll get you in trouble._

Making sure everything was clear ahead of him, O'Bannon gripped the handle of his cart and ran forward.

"Hang on, Espo."

The owl hooted as the barrier filled O'Bannon's vision.

He tensed just as everything went black. He barely felt the ground beneath his feet.

Bright light blinded him. He blinked a couple times. A huge scarlet steam engine connected to numerous cars appeared before him. Boys and girls and their parents crowded the platform, hundreds of conversations merging into a cacophony of babble. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his excitement building with each passing second.

_This is gonna be awesome._

O'Bannon set off down the platform, deftly maneuvering his cart around kids and teens and parents. He scanned all around him, looking for Servant Elves – _House Elves in Britain – _to take his luggage. He couldn't remember. Did you have to tip the elves here? He also wondered if British elves were as surly as the ones in America.

A couple minutes passed without seeing a single elf.

_What the heck? _He looked around and saw a plump woman with red hair standing a few feet away. "Excuse me, Ma'am."

She turned to him and smiled. "Something I can help you with, dear?"

O'Bannon was taken aback for a moment. After dealing with an unpleasant dipstick like Fordyce, the woman's politeness seemed almost alien. But he quickly got over it. "Um, yeah. I just wanted to find out where the elves are to take the luggage."

"Oh, you're American, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I'm here on an exchange program from the Salem Witches Institute."

"That's wonderful. I'm sorry, but we don't have House Elves at the station to handle luggage. You'll have to take it on the train and put it away yourself."

"Oh. Okay, I think I can deal with that. Thank you, Ma'am."

"Myself pleasure, dear, and welcome to Britain. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time at Hogwarts."

"Thank you," he smiled and nodded at the nice witch, wishing the Ministry of Magic sent her to meet him when he arrived instead of that nimrod Fordyce.

He continued down the platform, peering through windows to find an empty compartment. Every one was crowded until he got to the fifth car. He spotted two guys around his age, one pudgy with black hair, the other with brown hair and a body like a beanpole.

O'Bannon darted into the car and stuck his head into the compartment. "'Scuse me, guys."

They both turned to him. "Yes?" said the skinny boy.

"I was wondering if you had room in here for one more?"

Beanpole looked to his pudgy friend, who seemed to tense before looking at the floor. Beanpole gave a quick snort and turned back to O'Bannon. "Sure. You can ride with us."

"Cool. Thanks a lot."

He retrieved his luggage and packed it away. Espo's cage he placed on the floor by his seat.

"By the way, I'm Jimmy O'Bannon." He held out his hand.

Beanpole bit his lip for a moment, then shook hands. "Hadar Gilbourne."

"Vaughn Dooley," the pudgy boy said in a low voice, not even looking at O'Bannon.

"Nice to meet you guys." He then noticed the symbol on the left breast of Hadar's robes. A green and silver crest with the image of a snake. He recognized it from reading _Hogwarts: A History. _

It was the symbol of Slytherin House.

O'Bannon grimaced. From what he'd read, that House had a reputation of putting a heavy emphasis on blood purity. It had also spawned many, many dark wizards, including Lord Voldemort.

_Maybe I should find another compartment._

But he didn't. He thought of all the people he'd run into who harbored prejudices about Muggle-borns. Wouldn't judging these two based on what he'd read in a book make him prejudiced as well?

He decided to give Hadar and Dooley the benefit of the doubt. Besides, neither of them struck him as potential dark wizards.

"So what year are you guys in?" O'Bannon asked.

"Sixth," Hadar replied and nodded to Dooley. The pudgy boy just looked out the window.

"Cool. Me too." O'Bannon sat down across from them.

"Are you from America?" Hadar asked.

"Yeah. Boston, Mass. I won a competition at the Salem Witches Institute to study abroad for a year, and here I am."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. So, anything you can tell me about Hogwarts?"

"Like what?"

O'Bannon shrugged. "I don't know. What the teachers are like. Which ones are cool, which ones are buttheads. What kind of activities you got there. Oh, and it's gotta be wicked cool to have Albus Dumbledore as your headmaster."

Hadar shifted in his seat. "Dumbledore's all right."

Dooley determinedly did not look at either of them.

"All right?" O'Bannon gaped. "Dude, the guy single-handedly defeated Gellert Grindelwald. He's gotta be more than all right."

"I suppose."

About a minute later, the Hogwarts Express lurched forward, then picked up speed. O'Bannon took some quick breaths. _We're on our way._

"So what about the teachers?" he asked Hadar. "What are they like?"

"They're all right, for the most part. McGonagall, she's the Transfiguration professor, she's rather strict. Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick are nice. They teach Herbology and Charms. Don't know who we've got for Defense Against the Dark Arts. We've had a new teacher every year since I've been at Hogwarts. Oh! You might want to avoid Divination. The woman teaching that class is completely daft."

"Yeah, well my Divination teacher back at Salem was no prize, either."

"Her name's Trelawney, but most of us call her Tre-loony."

"Ha! Good one, man. Luckily I don't have to take Divination this year. Bunch'a bullcrap if you ask me."

"Professor Snape's a good teacher," Dooley muttered, so softly O'Bannon barely heard him.

"Who's that?"

"Potions professor," answered Hadar. "He knows his stuff, that's for sure, but you don't want to get on his bad side. Especially if you're not sorted into Slytherin."

"Yeah, how does that sorting thing work?"

Hadar bobbed his head from side-to-side. "Actually, they like to keep that a surprise."

A flare of disappointment went through O'Bannon. _Oh well, part of the adventure, I guess._

He thought back to everything he'd read about the four dorms, or houses, at Hogwarts. Unlike the dorms back at Salem, each house had its own unique traits. Gryffindor was big on bravery, Ravenclaw valued intelligence, Hufflepuff prized hard work and friendship, and Slytherin . . .

He doubted he'd be put into that house. Ravenclaw? He certainly wasn't a moron, but he didn't approach the genius level of, say, Cindy Walker.

So that left Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

_Well, I work hard and I'm nice to people. But I also don't back down from a fight._

He mentally shrugged. He figured he'd be cool with being sorted into either house.

The train continued north toward Scotland. He and Hadar talked quite a bit. O'Bannon learned that the Slytherin boy lived near Derby, rooted for the Falmouth Falcons in Quidditch, and that his father worked for a company that supplied ingredients for rare potions. He felt very confident that he'd made his first friend at Hogwarts.

Dooley, on the other hand, barely said a word. O'Bannon didn't sense the other boy as rude. He was probably shy. Even shier than Artimus. For whatever reason, Dooley pushed himself into the corner of his seat when O'Bannon brought up his Muggle background. Hadar tensed for a bit, but did not hurl any insults at him. He took that as a good sign.

At one point, he noticed the brown-haired witch he'd spoken with at King's Cross walk past their compartment with a tall, black girl with a lean, firm body. The brown-haired girl saw him through the window and smiled. She then looked over at Hadar and Dooley. Her smile vanished and her brow furrowed. She then said something to her friend before they vanished from sight.

_Wonder what that was about._

An hour into their trip, a smiling, dimpled woman slid back the door of their compartment. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

O'Bannon's eyes widened. The woman's cart was overflowing with all sorts of sweets. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and several other things he didn't recognize, but looked delicious.

"Wicked pissah!" He bounded over to the cart. They never served food on the _Salem Schooner_ that took him and his classmates to and from school. Maybe when he got back to the US, he should mention it to Headmistress Esmeralda.

O'Bannon grabbed handfuls of sweets, taking a few seconds to adjust his mind from jade and silver pieces to knuts and sickles. After he paid the lady, Hadar and Dooley also loaded up on candy. The three returned to their seats and chowed down. O'Bannon moaned in delight as he sucked down the bubbling melted chocolate in the middle of the Cauldron Cakes. The Pumpkin Pasties tasted just as tangy as they did back in the US. And Bertie Bott's! Oh man, did he love Bertie Bott's. They always reminded him of the line from the movie _Forrest Gump_, where the title character said, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get." Except in this case "Bertie Bott's" replaced "chocolates," because you really never knew which flavor you'd get. O'Bannon had a good streak going, with beans tasting like marshmallows, almonds, roast potatoes, milk, spearmint, roast beef . . . then grass. Yuck!

_Coulda been worse. It coulda been coconut._

Once he devoured his bag of Bertie Bott's, he opened up a Chocolate Frog and let it hop around his seat. Espo hooted and jumped around until the frog settled in O'Bannon's palm. Now still, he popped it in his mouth, savoring the creamy chocolate center.

That's when he noticed a something.

"Hey! You guys put trading cards in your Chocolate Frog wrappers?"

"Of course," Hadar replied, nibbling on a Licorice Wand. "Don't you Americans do that?"

"Nope. We just sell 'em in packs." O'Bannon picked up the card, which featured muscular blond man on a broom knocking away Bludgers.

_LUDOVIC "LUDO" BAGMAN: One of the greatest Beaters of his day. Played for the Wimbourne Wasps and led them to multiple League Championships. Also a member of the British National Quidditch Team. Retired, he currently works as Head of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Games and Sports._

He heard the door of the compartment slide open. Could it be the candy lady again?

He looked up. A tall boy with white-blond hair leaned into the compartment. O'Bannon recognized him. It was the first boy he'd seen run through the barrier to Platform Nine-And-Three Quarters.

He also noticed the boy had a Slytherin crest on his robes.

"Gilbourne. Dooley."

"Malfoy." Hadar gave the boy a barely perceptible nod.

"M-M-Malfoy." Dooley visibly tensed and stared down at the floor.

O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow. _What's up with him? _If he didn't know better, he'd say Dooley was scared of this Malfoy guy.

He looked back to Malfoy and saw two other wizards behind him. Both of them were tall, wide and thick. Had they been Muggles, they would have made great linemen for some high school football team.

"Who's this?" Malfoy jerked his head toward him, his lip curling.

O'Bannon got out of his seat, ready to ask this Malfoy punk if he had a problem. Instead, he bit his tongue. He remembered what Headmistress Esmeralda had told him about studying abroad. That he should think of himself as an ambassador, not just for Salem, but also for the United States. It probably would not be very diplomatic to haul off and belt some scowling British kid in the face.

He forced himself to smile and stick out his hand. "Hey. Jimmy O'Bannon. How are you?"

Malfoy's face scrunched in bewilderment. "What's with the accent? Where are you from?"

"Salem Witches Institute in America. I'm an exchange student here."

"Salem, eh?" Malfoy snickered. So did the two "lineman" behind him. "Fourth-rate version of Hogwarts from everything I've heard. Then again, magical education in America hasn't been the same since you Yanks went your own way. That's what my father says."

Heat rose in O'Bannon's cheeks. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to Malfoy. Being diplomatic only went so far when some jagoff talked smack about his country and his school.

"You got some problem with me, Malfoy?"

Malfoy laughed humorlessly and closed the already small gap between them. O'Bannon had to crane his neck to look him in the eye. Malfoy probably had a good four inches over him. He also noticed the two "linemen" sliding up behind Malfoy.

O'Bannon stood his ground.

"Think you're tough, huh, Yank?" Malfoy glared at him.

"I don't think, buddy, I know."

Malfoy smirked and turned to the "linemen." Both boys started cracking their knuckles.

O'Bannon clenched his fists, ready to drop the gloves, sort to speak.

_Not the way I pictured my first day in England, but . . ._

"You lot." He heard a voice from outside the compartment. "Move along. You're blocking up the corridor."

A tall boy with brown hair and glasses appeared. O'Bannon noticed the boy wore a gold badge with a capital P superimposed over a lion.

Malfoy frowned, as did his "linemen." He backed out of the compartment, shot a glare toward Hadar and Dooley and started walking away.

"You'd best watch yourself, Yank. I'll have my eye on you."

O'Bannon scoffed as he watched Malfoy and the "linemen" go into the next car. He let out a sigh and shook his head. He hadn't even arrived at Hogwarts yet and he'd already made one friend, and one enemy.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	3. The Sorting Ceremony

**CHAPTER 3: THE SORTING CEREMONY**

* * *

><p>Hadar and Dooley kept silent as the Hogwarts Express chugged north. To O'Bannon, it seemed like that Malfoy butthole gave them a silent order to not speak to him.<p>

_Must be some kind of big shot in Slytherin._

No, not a big shot. A bully. He'd dealt with his fair share of them both at Salem and his old Muggle elementary school. And like most bullies, Malfoy needed back-up to make himself look tough.

Having finished his sweets, and with Hadar and Dooley unwilling to talk to him, O'Bannon fished out the latest edition of _Quidditch America_ from his backpack. He flipped to an article summarizing the recently ended USQA season, and running down what improvements each team in the league needed to make for next season. The Boston Bandits had to strengthen the Keeper position. The New York Nightmares needed more consistency from their Beaters. The hapless Chicago Celestials would be better off getting rid of every single player and starting over. The Atlanta Archers could benefit from some faster Chasers, but so long as they had Charlotte Chivero as Seeker they'd likely repeat as USQA Champions next year.

He was in the middle of the summary on the Philadelphia Warhammers when his eyelids began to droop.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

O'Bannon's eyes snapped open at the announcement. He looked around, then noticed the sky had darkened and rain pelted the window.

_Musta fallen asleep. _He rubbed his eyes and shoved the _Quidditch America _magazine into his backpack. He then looked over to Hadar and Dooley. "Guess we're almost there."

"Yeah." Hadar nodded. "Won't be fun going to the castle in this weather."

O'Bannon grinned. He took it as a good sign that Hadar was talking to him again. Dooley, though, eyed Hadar as though he'd committed some heinous crime. O'Bannon felt sorry for the pudgy kid. No one should be that scared of a skinny-ass jagoff like Malfoy.

The Hogwarts Express finally came to a stop. O'Bannon sprang out of his seat, heart pumping with anticipation.

"Well, time to check out my new digs." He grabbed his backpack. "Nice meeting you guys."

"Um, you too." Hadar shook his hand, a bit reluctantly though.

Dooley deliberately ignored him.

Just before he left the compartment, O'Bannon looked out the window at the pouring rain and grimaced. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his black and gold Boston Bruins windbreaker, grateful that Mom had urged him to stick it in there, just in case. He didn't think it would do that good a job keeping him dry. Still, it was better than nothing.

He put it on, pulled the hood over his head and followed the throng of students toward the exit.

"First Years over that way," said the boy standing at the bottom of the steps. O'Bannon recognized him. It was the boy with the lion badge who chased off Malfoy and his goons earlier. "First Years proceed that way."

"Actually, I'm an exchange student." O'Bannon held up a hand. "Any place in particular I need to go?"

The boy with lion badge tightened his face, as though thinking it over. "Um, you'd probably need to accompany the First Years, since I imagine you need to be sorted."

"Cool. Thanks."

He strode off in the direction the boy had pointed. He soon found himself surrounded by a mob of small boys and girls, most of them looking very nervous, as well as drenched.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years over here!" A deep voice bellowed through the darkness and rain. Ahead of him a lantern floated in the air.

It took O'Bannon a few steps to realize the lantern wasn't floating. Someone was holding it. His eyes widened when he saw who.

The bearded man had to be at least nine feet tall. He wouldn't be surprised if the guy had some giant blood in him. The thought made O'Bannon clench his teeth. He'd read numerous stories about Kensington Kadermass and his battles with the Adirondack Giants. Those had been some vicious monsters.

_C'mon, like a school is gonna hire someone that's gonna twist your head off and play basketball with it._

Many of the First Years gawked at the giant with either awe or fear, or a combination of both. O'Bannon walked to the head of the pack and looked up at the enormous man. He felt like a midget standing so close to him.

_Shaquille O'Neal would feel like a midget next to this guy._

The giant's brow furrowed as he stared down at him. "A bit big for a Firs' Year, aren' ye?"

"Actually, I'm an exchange student."

"Oh. Tha's right. Professor McGonagall told me ter be expectin' ye." The giant reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, which became immediately drenched by the rain. "Jimmy O'Bannon from the Salem Witches Institute in America. This'll be yer Sixth Year, right."

"Yeah, that's right."

The giant stuffed the soggy paper back in his pocket, smiled and stuck out his massive hand. "Rubeus Hagrid. Grounds Keeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor."

O'Bannon gazed warily at Hagrid's hamhock. _Damn, he could squash my hand with one little squeeze._

"Uh, nice to meet you." With a deep breath, he reached out and shook Hagrid's hand. The giant did not crush it. In fact, he gave him a huge smile.

_Something tells me Kensington Kadermass never dealt with a giant this nice._

"Pleased ter meet ye, Jimmy O'Bannon. I'm sure ye'll have a great time here at Hogwarts."

"Thanks."

Hagrid smiled again and looked over the crowd of boys and girls. "All right, any more of you Firs' Years? Right, then. Follow me! Mind yer step. Could be a bit slippery."

O'Bannon and the others followed Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. The rain had made the ground muddy and slippery. A couple times O'Bannon caught himself before falling. A few other kids weren't so lucky. One girl cried loudly after taking a tumble. A boy who slipped and fell took out three more kids like bowling pins. O'Bannon helped one of them to his feet, a very small, very skinny boy with mousy blond hair.

"You okay there, kid?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine." He beamed at him. "Thank you."

Eventually they reached the edge of a large lake, the storm churning up the water. The driving rain had thoroughly soaked O'Bannon's windbreaker, as well as the rest of his clothes.

_Here we are at a magical school and no one thinks to conjure up some friggin' umbrellas. _

He forgot about the uncomfortable conditions as he gazed at the structure across the lake. A huge castle with numerous turrets and towers stood on a hilltop, many of its windows lit up.

"Wicked pissah." He continued staring at it, ignoring the rain. My God, that was really it. That was Hogwarts. Not a photograph or a drawing of it. This was the real deal, and he'd be studying there for the next year.

"C'mon! Let's go!" Hagrid's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "No more'n four to a boat."

O'Bannon looked down at a fleet of small boats that looked a step above a rowboat, and not a very well-built rowboat at that.

"You gotta be friggin' kidding me." He glanced out at the lake and tensed. It remained him of images he'd seen on TV of the ocean just before a big hurricane hit. He thanked God he didn't suffer from motion sickness. Still, he wouldn't have minded having a Seasickness Potion handy, just in case.

The mousy-haired boy scrambled into the boat closest to them. He sat by the bow, gripping the edges and staring out at Hogwarts. The kid looked anxious to get going.

O'Bannon got in the boat with him. So did slight blond girl and a dark-skinned boy who looked pretty stout for his age. Both appeared terrified, their drenched robes clinging to their bodies.

The boats shoved off by some unseen force. O'Bannon hoped whatever magic guided the boats also kept them from being tossed around the violent waters.

No such luck. Their boat got lifted up and slammed back into the lake, or rocked from side-to-side, to the point O'Bannon feared they'd capsize. The mousy-haired boy didn't seem to mind. In fact, he smiled and cheered throughout. The dark-skinned boy and the girl clung to each other. O'Bannon bit his lower lip, feeling for the two kids.

"So who are you guys?" he asked them.

The two frightened children stared at him like he'd just transformed into man-sized flubberworm.

"I'm Dennis Creevey!" blurted the mousy-haired boy. "My brother, Colin, goes to Hogwarts. I can't wait to get there. It's gonna be so cool. And Harry Potter goes there. You know about Harry Potter, right?"

"Uh-huh." O'Bannon just stared at Dennis, wondering if the kid had ODed on a Pepper Up Potion.

Dennis tilted his head. "Here, why aren't you with the older kids?"

"It's my first time at Hogwarts." O'Bannon clenched the side of the boat as they got thrown around. He tried not to show any worry on his face for the sake of the other two kids. "I'm an exchange student from the Salem Witches Institute. Jimmy O'Bannon." He shook Dennis' wet hand.

"You're an American! That's so cool! I watch a lot of American programs on the telly. _Power Rangers, Saved by the Bell, Quantum Leap _and _Animaniacs. _Do you watch those shows?"

That pegged Dennis as a Muggle-born.

"Yeah, I dig _Saved by the Bell _and _Animaniacs, _too."

"Cool!"

O'Bannon looked over to the other two kids. "So who are you guys?"

"St-St-Stewart Ackerly," said the dark-skinned boy.

"La-Laura M-Madley." She yelped as a wave lifted the boat.

O'Bannon tried to get them to talk more, but Stewart and Laura seemed too scared to speak. Dennis, on the other hand, couldn't restrain his excitement.

"I hope I'm in Gryffindor . . . Do you want to be in Gryffindor, Jimmy . . . Harry Potter's in Gryffindor, and he's Seeker on their Quidditch team. Best Seeker at school, is what Colin says . . . Oooh, look! We're almost there!" Dennis got up and leaned over the bow for a closer look at the castle.

"Yo, Dennis! You may wanna be -"

A wave knocked the boat to the right.

Dennis tumbled into the water.

"Dennis!" O'Bannon hurried to the bow. Laura screamed and hugged Stewart.

"Man overboard!" he hollered, looking at the other boats. He tried to find Hagrid, but couldn't.

_Crap!_ O'Bannon stood up, fighting to keep his balance in the rocking boat. He ripped off his backpack and crouched, ready to dive in.

Something burst through the water, something long and thick and red. A tentacle? His chest tightened when he saw the tentacle clutched Dennis. He went for his wand.

That's when the tentacle lowered Dennis into the boat, unwrapped him and patted him on the head. It then vanished beneath the water.

"Well I'll be damned." O'Bannon sat back down, still staring at the roiling water. Could that have been a giant squid? Hogwarts had a giant squid in its lake?

_All Salem's lake has is a few hippocampi._

He shook off his astonishment and turned to Dennis. "Dennis! You okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah! Did you see that? That must've been the giant squid Colin told me about. Was that cool or what?"

O'Bannon just gaped at the small boy. He didn't know many other people who'd think falling out of a boat into storm-tossed waters would be cool.

The boats approached a cliff and entered a tunnel. The water calmed down somewhat. They reached a small natural harbor and got off their boats, sopping wet, none more so than poor Dennis. Hagrid, seeing this, removed his black, furry moleskin jacket and wrapped it around him. Had his small face not been visible, Dennis could have resembled Cousin It from the old TV show _The Addams Family._

Hagrid knocked on a huge oak door, which by itself. A tall, stern-looking witch with black-gray hair appeared and gazed over the group of new students. Most of them shivered, either from the cold or nerves, or both. O'Bannon only shivered from the cold.

The witch, who identified herself as Professor McGonagall, led them through a huge entrance hall with a high ceiling and flaming torches lining the walls. Off to the side was a grand marble staircase.

O'Bannon gazed around, wide-eyed, forgetting how cold and drenched he was. The place reminded him of castles he'd seen in medieval movies like _Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves _or _Monty Python and the Holy Grail. _He grinned, thinking of the beautiful women in Castle Anthrax and Michael Palin as the King of Swamp Castle.

"_All the kings said I was daft to build a castle in the swamp, but I built it all the same, just to show 'em. That sank into the swamp. So, I built a second one. That sank into the swamp. So I built a third one. That burned down, fell over then sank into the swamp. But the fourth one stayed up!"_

"Welcome to Hogwarts." McGonagall's voice interrupted any more thoughts of one of his favorite movies. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is very important as your house will be something like your family. You will have classes with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend your free time in your house common room."

Droplets of water slid down O'Bannon's forehead and into his eyes. He wiped it away with his hand as McGonagall continued. "The four houses of Hogwarts are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and has produced many outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any misbehavior shall lose points for your house."

O'Bannon's brow furrowed. _What's up with this points thing? _He wondered if it might be similar to the gold stars his teachers awarded at his old Muggle elementary school.

He noticed McGonagall's eyes fall on him. "I assume you are Jimmy O'Bannon, our exchange student from America?"

"That's right . . . Ma'am."

"Ah. I had a chance to reacquaint myself with your headmistress while she was here for the Quidditch World Cup. She spoke very highly of you. I trust you will do nothing to fall short of her expectations, and mine."

"I don't plan to . . . Ma'am." O'Bannon tacked it on again. McGonagall struck him as a witch you'd better refer to as "ma'am," or else.

"Excellent. While you are not a First Year, you are still a new student, and thus, need to take part in the Sorting Ceremony."

"Sounds good . . . Ma'am."

"Professor shall do nicely, Mister O'Bannon."

"Yes, Ma'am . . . er, Professor."

McGonagall nodded and gazed at the First Years. "The Sorting Ceremony shall begin in a few minutes. I suggest you make yourselves presentable." The corners of her mouth curled as she took in the dripping wet boys and girls. "As best you can."

She left them. Most of the students looked at one another nervously. O'Bannon used the time to ring out his robes and windbreaker. He only stopped when the First Years screamed at the sight of a couple ghosts floating through the wall. O'Bannon shrugged and went back to twisting handfuls of soggy clothing.

"Unbelievable they're doing it again," he heard a ghost that looked like a fat monk say. "Considering how dangerous it is."

Another ghost in a ruff and tights said, "Bah! Where would the reward be if it weren't dangerous, my dear Friar?"

O'Bannon wondered what the ghosts were talking about when McGonagall appeared. "Come. The Sorting Ceremony is beginning."

He followed the First Years, leaving behind a puddle the size of Lake Michigan from ringing out his clothes. Excitement built up in him as they went through an arched doorway.

"Whoa," he said in an awed voice as he gazed around the Great Hall. Four tables stretched from one end to the other, packed with boys and girls in robes. Many of them looked soaked, though not as bad as he and the First Years. Another table had been set up in the front where several adults sat. Teachers, he guessed. Candles hovered overhead. His eyes widened when he noticed the velvety black ceiling with sheets of rain coming down. The rain, thankfully, did not fall on the room.

_Must be enchanted to mirror the outside._

He smiled and nodded. This place put the Communal Hall back at Salem to shame. It also made him feel like he really was in a foreign country.

He spotted Dennis ahead of him, giving a thumbs-up to a boy at one of the tables who looked just like him, only a year or two older. He mouthed, "I fell in the lake," and smiled.

O'Bannon's eyes flickered from table to table, seeing and feeling numerous eyes on him. Probably to be expected. Amongst a gaggle of eleven-year-olds, he clearly stood out. He caught sight of the brown-haired witch and the tall black girl. Both looked his way before turning back and having a hushed conversation with other students. Further down the table, a striking Indian girl and a gorgeous brunette also stared at him, whispered amongst themselves, and giggled.

Then he saw him. With a crown of drenched black hair and glasses, he didn't look like a hero. But the lightning bolt scar was a dead giveaway.

_Holy crap. That's him._

He fought to keep his jaw from dropping as he stared at Harry Potter. One of the greatest heroes of the Wizarding World. The boy who somehow at the age of one vanquished Lord Voldemort. Now he, Jimmy O'Bannon, stood just a few feet away from him.

"Wicked pissah," he muttered under his breath, wondering how jealous Penny and Rosa and Jared and Artimus and all the other kids back in Salem would be of him right now.

"_A thousand years or more ago, when I was newly sewn, there lived four wizards of renown, whose names are still well known."_

O'Bannon's head swung to the front of the room. A stool had been set up in front of the teachers' table. On it sat a pointy hat that was patched and frayed and in need of a good washing.

And it was singing!

"_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, fair Ravenclaw from glen, sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad, shrewd Slytherin from fen."_

Many of the First Years gawked at it in disbelief. O'Bannon stared at it with mild bemusement. After nearly six years in the Wizarding World, he'd seen weirder things.

The hat sang on about what traits these four wizards cherished and how it would determine which house each new student would be in.

_So that's how you get sorted here? You put on a hat?_ For a school hundreds of years older than Salem, O'Bannon expected something more . . . grand.

The song finished, McGonagall approached the stool, carrying a scroll. "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

She held up the scroll and read, "Ackerly, Stewart!"

Stewart walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot. He picked up the Sorting Hat with a shaky hand, put it on and sat on the stool. O'Bannon shot him a thumbs-up, but couldn't tell if Stewart noticed him.

Several seconds passed before the hat shouted, RAVENCLAW!"

The boys and girls at the table to his left applauded as Stewart hurried to join them.

Next came a boy called Malcolm Baddock, who ended up in Slytherin. O'Bannon watched him proceed to the table, where he noticed Malfoy and his two goons clapping. He saw Hadar and Dooley sitting a few seats away from them, also clapping. When Malfoy looked their way, Hadar held the other boy's gaze for a few moments, then frowned and looked away. Dooley winced and tried to make himself invisible.

_I'm really starting to hate that Malfoy butthole._

The next two First Years went into Hufflepuff. Dennis followed, the hat sorting him into Gryffindor. He bounded over to where his brother sat and spoke excitedly to him.

The Sorting continued, O'Bannon moving closer to the stool. He started bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious to see which House he'd be in. He took a few glances over at the Gryffindor table. A few students looked his way, then spoke quietly amongst themselves. The hairs on the back on his neck tingled. What the heck was going on?

_Aw, quit being paranoid._

Laura Madley got called next. He gave the soaking wet little girl a supportive smile. As with Stewart, he had no idea if she noticed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" declared the Sorting Hat.

Laura headed to the appropriate table. The dwindling line moved closer to the stool. That's when O'Bannon spotted a pair of redheaded twins at the Gryffindor table looking his way.

"Oi, Fred. Check out that bloke. Pretty big for a First Year, wouldn't you say?"

"I would, George. Must've gotten his hands on a Growth Potion or something."

O'Bannon chuckled to himself. It felt good to finally run into a couple of guys in this country with a sense of humor.

Next up came Natalie McDonald, who went to Gryffindor.

"I do hope this batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said one of the ghosts he'd seen earlier, the one with the ruff and the tights. He hovered by the Gryffindor table, close to Harry Potter, a tall red-headed boy with a large nose, and a busy-haired girl with buck teeth. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

"Heck no, Sir Nicholas," declared a black boy with dreadlocks. "We'll make it four years in a row winning the House Cup, you'll see."

Several other Gryffindors nodded and applauded and cheered.

"Northbender, Geoffrey."

O'Bannon watched a narrow-faced blond boy walk to the stool. That's when he realized there were no more First Years in front of him.

He was next!

His breaths came quickly as the hat put Geoffrey Northbender into Ravenclaw. Every muscle in O'Bannon's body tensed as Professor McGonagall looked at the scroll.

"O'Bannon, Jimmy."

He held his breath, straightened his shoulders, and strode up to the stool. He didn't hesitate as he picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat.

_Ah, an American,_ a gravely voice spoke in his head. _I don't get very many of your lot._

_I'm an exchange student, _he thought back. _So how does this work?_

_I do all the work. Hmm, let's see. You aren't afraid of hard work, that's for certain. _

O'Bannon grimaced. Wizarding World or not, he didn't like having his thoughts read, least of all by a hat!

_Oh don't worry. I'm not prying into your thoughts or memories. I'm merely getting a general impression of you. Ah, I sense you place great value on fair play and loyalty and friendship. You would make a fine addition to Hufflepuff._

He shrugged. _Okay._

_But . . ._

O'Bannon closed his eyes and groaned. _Oh please don't say Slytherin._

_Slytherin? Oh no, Slytherin is not the House for you. You are best suited for . . ._

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Cool." He took off the hat and placed it back on the stool. McGonagall gave him a satisfied nod as he headed over to the Gryffindor table. The students there applauded, as they had for the First Years sorted into that House. But were those applause a bit muted for him?

_You're probably imagining things._

He found a spot near the end of the Gryffindor table. Sitting across from him was the boy with the lion badge. Next to him sat a roly-poly wizard with dark hair and an intense look. He read a thick textbook as the Sorting Hat put Graham Pritchard into Slytherin.

"Hi. Jimmy O'Bannon." He stuck out his hand to the boy with the lion badge.

The boy studied his hand and gave it the briefest of shakes. "Simon Hurst, Sixth Year Prefect."

"Sixth Year what?"

An annoyed expression formed on Hurst's face. "Prefect. We help the staff maintain discipline among the students."

"Oh." O'Bannon nodded. _Basically, you're a hall monitor, _he thought, but didn't say.

He turned to the boy with the textbook. Transfiguration, by the look of it. "Hi. Jimmy O'Bannon."

"Quincy Questor," he barely looked at him as he continued reading.

"Okay. You know, you'll have plenty of time to study starting tomorrow."

Quincy gave him a scathing look, then returned to his book.

_Okay, then._

"I would've thought you'd prefer it in Slytherin," Hurst said.

O'Bannon shot him a quizzical look. "What are you talkin' about?"

"You were associating with Malfoy and his lapdogs, Crabbe and Goyle, on the train."

"I wasn't 'associating' with them, believe me."

"Then what were they doing in your compartment?"

"Being a pain in my ass."

Hurst didn't appear convinced. "And what about those other two? Gilbourne and Dooley?"

"Those guys? They're all right?"

Several heads at the Gryffindor table turned his way. All of their faces registered shock. It made O'Bannon feel like he had walked into a room of Boston Celtics fans and said Magic Johnson of the hated Los Angeles Lakers was the greatest basketball player ever.

Hurst grunted. "Maybe you should sit with the Slytherins if you think they're all right."

O'Bannon glared at him as the Sorting Hat announced Kevin Whitby as the newest member of Hufflepuff. He was still steaming as Headmaster Dumbledore told them to, "Tuck in." He found it hard to enjoy his dinner, as delicious as it was, with Hurst's comments and the Gryffindors' aghast reactions on his mind. Being soaking wet also didn't help his mood, either.

_I shoulda sat with those redheaded twins. They'd probably be more fun than this bunch._

He felt a bit better after filling his stomach with lamb chops, roast chicken, potatoes and some rolled up pastry filled with strawberry jam that tasted very good. He also got pumped when Albus Dumbledore prepared to address them. One of the most famous wizards of this century, he looked as though he stepped right off the cover of a _Dungeons and Dragons _game with his flowing, ornate robes, long gray beard and pointy hat.

_I'm in the same room as Albus Dumbledore. Wicked pissah._

Everyone in the Great Hall quieted down as Dumbledore spoke. Not that he said anything profound, yet. He talked about a list put together by some guy named Filch of things not allowed in the castle like Fanged Frisbees and Screaming Yo-Yos. Next, he said the school's forest was out-of-bounds, the same with Hogsmeade village to First and Second Years. That made O'Bannon furrow his brow. At Salem, all students could visit Ovenderburg, the village adjacent to the school. Sixth and Seventh Years could go there any time they wanted.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

The entire hall went into an uproar. Not that O'Bannon could blame them. He'd be beyond pissed if Headmistress Esmeralda announced the cancellation of the Salem hockey season.

"This is due . . ." The stunned, and in some cases angry, students quieted down as Dumbledore continued. "To an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy. But I am sure you will enjoy it immensely. I have the great pleasure of announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

The door of the Great Hall banged open. All heads turned to a man leaning on a long staff and wearing a black travel cloak. When he lowered his hood, O'Bannon grimaced. The man's face bore several scars and resembled a gnarled piece of wood. He also had a large, bright blue artificial eye that constantly flickered in all directions.

The newcomer limped up to the staff table, a noticeable, metallic _click _accompanying each step. O'Bannon guessed he had an artificial leg.

Dumbledore shook the man's hand and introduced him as Professor Moody, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

A buzz went through the Gryffindor table. O'Bannon heard more than a few people say, "Mad-Eye Moody."

_Oh that sounds encouraging. _He started to miss Mr. Tellmark, his DADA teacher back at Salem.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore continued. "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Tri-Wizard Tournament will take place at Hogwarts this year."

Another outburst erupted, though more positive than the one that followed the announcement about the Quidditch Cup.

"You're joking!" one of the redheaded twins further down the Gryffindor table shouted.

"I am not joking, Mister Weasley," Dumbledore responded. "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag and a leprechaun who all go into a bar . . ."

O'Bannon did a double take. _Say what? _Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest wizards ever, was cracking jokes in front of the entire student body? Never in his wildest dreams could he have pictured this. He could never imagine Headmistress Esmeralda doing it.

Whatever the joke was, Dumbledore never told it. McGonagall cut him off by loudly clearing her throat. That left O'Bannon to search his memory for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Hadn't Miss Venatici, the hot History of Magic teacher at Salem, mentioned it in one of her classes?

Thankfully, Dumbledore filled them all in. The tournament involved three of the most prestigious wizarding schools in Europe; Hogwarts, Beauxbatons in France, and Durmstrang in Bulgaria, competing in a series of magical tasks.

"Until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Say what!" O'Bannon blurted. _Death toll!_ People died in this Tri-Wizard Tournament, and they wanted to bring it back!

What was worse, many of the students in the Great Hall seemed excited over this.

His legs begin to shake. Who determined which students took part in this Tri-Wizard Tournament?

Would they make him be a part of it?

Fear snaked through him. _Jimmy O'Bannon, what the hell did you get yourself into?_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	4. TriWizard Tournament

**CHAPTER 4: TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon started planning his escape from this lunatic asylum disguised as a school when Dumbledore continued, "There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which has been successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt."<p>

_Why? Do they want to thin out the British wizarding population? _O'Bannon looked at the door of the Great Hall, wondering if he should try and make a break for it.

"We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."

O'Bannon felt his muscles start to relax. Well that was good to hear. He started to breathe again, then scolded himself for giving in to his paranoia. This wasn't the friggin' Dark Ages. Surely no school in this day and age would host a tournament that could result in the deaths of its students.

_Very Gryffindor reaction from you, O'Bannon. _He wondered if the Sorting Hat had made a mistake. Maybe he would have been better off in Hufflepuff.

Dumbledore went on. "The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and a selection of three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for Tri-Wizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"Whoa!" O'Bannon blurted, his eyes bulging. Stunned and fervent voices rippled throughout the Great Hall. Even Quincy Questor pulled his nose out of his Transfiguration book and looked up at Headmaster Dumbledore.

_A thousand Galleons. _He tried to figure out what that would be in US magical currency. It had to still be a lot. Enough to buy a sweet new broom like a Sky Fury 500. He could also convert it to Muggle money and get season tickets to the Bruins, Red Sox and Patriots.

"I'm going for it!" he heard one of the redheaded twins say.

Dumbledore raised his arms. The students quieted down. "Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Tri-Wizard Cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age – that is to say, seventeen years or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This . . ."

Grumbling came from several students, growing louder by the second. O'Bannon noticed the redheaded twins, Weasley he thought Dumbledore called one of them, looked ready to jump the table and strangle the headmaster.

Dumbledore spoke, undeterred. "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below Sixth and Seventh Year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

O'Bannon swore Dumbledore glanced toward those Weasley twins, who both looked mad enough to piss fire.

"I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

The corners of O'Bannon's mouth twisted. Even if he had any serious thoughts of entering this tournament, it didn't matter. He wouldn't turn sixteen until January, never mind seventeen.

Then again, Dumbledore did say the tournament would still be dangerous, even given whatever safeguards the Ministry of Magic set up. Witches and wizards might still die. Heck, Muggle football players died in games during the early 20th Century. Of course, that had been before the advent of better helmets and pads. Still, every once in a while a really bad hit resulted in someone becoming a paraplegic.

And in a tournament where magic was involved, who the hell knew how dangerous these tasks could be? Somehow, he doubted a thousand Galleons would be worth it.

Dumbledore continued. "The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year."

_Looks like I won't be the only exchange student here this year, _he thought as Dumbledore continued, "I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow. "Chop chop" was not an expression he expected to come from the mouth of a great wizard like Albus Dumbledore.

The students rose from their tables. O'Bannon grabbed his backpack and followed the throng toward the exit, feeling a little drier than when he first entered the Great Hall. He dug into one of the pockets of his backpack and pulled out his schedule. He started off the day with History of Magic, followed by Potions with both the Gryffindors and Slytherins. He prayed that Malfoy jagoff wasn't a Sixth Year. The less he had to put up with him, the better. After lunch, he had Transfiguration. If he had some free time, maybe he'd head to the library and read up on the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Then he'd get an idea of what sorts of tasks the champions would have to face.

_Sounds like it's not gonna be something simple like a wizards duel. _That kind of thing he could handle. Well, unless he went up against Rosa. She had beaten him in way more duels than he had during their time at Salem. Then again, both her parents were aurors. Being a great dueler had to be in her blood.

He put his schedule in his backpack as he neared the exit. Quincy Questor continued reading his Transfiguration book as he walked. O'Bannon shook his head. Even Cindy Walker wasn't this obsessed with studying.

The throng moved into the corridor. O'Bannon glanced to his right and noticed a line of Slytherins next to him, including Hadar and Dooley.

"Yo, Hadar!"

The skinny teen looked over at him, shock registering on his face.

O'Bannon slapped him on the shoulder. "Looks like it's you and me in Potions tomorrow. Check you then, dude. Have a good one."

Both lines of Gryffindors and Slytherins stopped moving. Even several of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws halted. All heads turned toward him and Hadar. Many of the eyes he saw were wide with shock. The brown-haired witch and her tall dark-skinned friend gaped at him. The tall redhead next to Harry Potter shot him a scathing look. The Weasley twins looked confused, as did Harry Potter himself.

"What?" was all O'Bannon could think of saying.

Several students shook their heads. Others gave him fiery looks or held whispered conversations with the boys and girls next to them. O'Bannon was about to say "What?" again when Professor McGonagall emerged from the Great Hall and clapped her hands.

"Let's go, now. To bed, all of you."

The students moved again, with O'Bannon following the rest of the Gryffindors up the marble staircase. The social air around him dropped to an Arctic chill. O'Bannon sensed more than saw the glares from his new housemates.

_What the hell is up with these people? _Jeez, the way they acted, you'd think he ripped down one of the Gryffindor banners and used it for toilet paper.

At the top of the stairs, they came upon a portrait of a fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked.

Hurst stepped forward. "Balderdash."

The portrait swung open to reveal a hole. They climbed through, O'Bannon surrounded by many of the First Years. They entered a round room filled with tables and squashy armchairs and sofas. A large fireplace stood on the other side of the room.

"First Years, hands out," Hurst ordered. "You too." He jerked his head toward O'Bannon.

Everyone held out their hands. Hurst waved his wand and spoke a few words of Latin. Little pieces of parchment appeared in their palms, each one with their room assignments and a crude map how to get there.

O'Bannon found his room easily. It had four large four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings. He saw his luggage, including Espo's cage, had been placed next to his bed.

"Hey, buddy." He poked a finger through the cage and stroked the bird's feathers. The whole time he chewed on his lip, trying to figure out what the hell he'd done to make all those Gryffindors react the way they had. And what was up with Hurst's comment about he should have been with Slytherin? He remembered reading in _Hogwarts: A History _that Gryffindor and Slytherin were big-time rivals. Well, Blazenrowe and Ardenturo Halls had been known to have some pretty intense games over the years, be it in Quidditch, Quadpot or hockey. But away from the field he was friends with many of the Ardenturo athletes, like Penelope Hale and Mario Hernandez.

_They couldn't be that petty here, could they?_

He heard footsteps behind him. Probably one of his roommates. He turned around and frowned. Quincy Questor walked in, his eyes still glued to that damn Transfiguration book.

"Hey," O'Bannon greeted him.

Quincy grunted in response, sat on his bed, and kept reading.

O'Bannon groaned and shook his head. He looked down at Espo and muttered. "I'm starting to wonder if I pissed off someone in a past life."

If Quincy heard him, he didn't acknowledge it. Actually, he really didn't give a crap if Quincy heard him or not.

After taking off his damp clothes, he changed into nice, warm, dry sweats and used his wand to unpack and put his clothes and other things away. His hockey stick he stood against the wall beside his bed. Next he hung his posters on the wall. The Boston Bandits, Nomar Garciaparra, Bobby Orr and the wizarding band Frozen Aurora. After that he started arranging his framed photos on the nightstand and the windowsill by his bed. Three of them showed him and Penny, including one where he spun her around at a school dance. A hole opened up in his chest as he gazed at her beautiful face and long dark hair. What he wouldn't give to reach into that photo, pull her out of it, and have her here beside him. He really needed a friendly face right now. Those same thoughts went through his mind as he looked at the photos of him, Jared, Rosa and Artimus.

Someone else entered the room. O'Bannon looked over his shoulder. More disappointment flooded through him.

Simon Hurst was also one of his roommates.

"Oh. You," the prefect bemoaned.

O'Bannon just groaned. He was really, really missing Penny and Jared and Rosa and Artimus right now.

Snorting, he threw back the covers of his bed. All he wanted to do was go to sleep and put an end to what had become a suck-ass first night in England.

That's when a third boy entered room. He had a similar build to O'Bannon's, though his hair was blond and he didn't smile.

_Oh good, a new face. _Maybe he'd have better luck with this guy.

"Hey. How are you doing?"

The new boy looked up at him and scowled. "Bloody hell. We've got the Slytherin lover in here."

O'Bannon clenched his teeth, his head shaking in anger. A voice in the back of his mind recalled Headmistress Esmeralda telling him about being an ambassador and putting his best foot forward and blah, blah, blah, to hell with it!

He kicked an empty trunk halfway across the room, nearly hitting Hurst.

"What the hell? You nearly struck a prefect, O'Bannon. That's five points I'll have to dock you."

"Oh, to hell with your damn points."

"That's another five points."

"Oh for Merlin's sake." The blond boy threw his arms into the air. "We only just got back and you're already throwing around your weight as prefect."

"Mind you tongue, Eddleton, or you'll lose our House five points, too."

"Oh, it's Eddleton now. Used to be you'd call me Ian. Of course, that was when we were actually friends. You know, before you had to become the perfect prefect."

"I have duties and responsibilities now. It's not my fault you can't understand -"

"Oh, get stuffed!"

"Right then. Five points from you, too."

"Will you both shut it?" Quincy snapped. "I'm trying to study here."

"Hey, all of you shut it!"

All three of O'Bannon's roommates turned toward him.

"Okay, I am not trying to play The Ugly American or anything here, but ever since I set foot in this school everyone's treating me like I'm the offspring of friggin' Ardro Hister."

"Who?" Eddleton gave him a baffled look.

Quincy huffed. "American dark wizard who led a revolt in the 1920s -"

"Dude, I've got History of Magic tomorrow, okay? I wanna know what the hell's going on where everyone at this school is making me feel as welcome as Muggle-born at a Death Eaters convention."

"What could it be?" This from Eddleton. "How about being friendly with the Slytherins. I heard from Angelina Johnson you spent the entire trip on the Hogwarts Express with a pair of them."

"Yeah. Hadar Gilbourne and Vaughn Dooley. Aside from being scared of that Malfoy jagoff, they don't seem bad."

"They're Slytherin. None of them are good."

"Well these two were."

"A word of advice, O'Bannon," said Hurst.

"What?"

Hurst's eyes narrowed. O'Bannon wondered if the guy would dock more of these points from him. "You're in Gryffindor now. You want to be in good standing with us, I suggest you stop being friendly with the Slytherins."

That got his Irish up. He hated peer pressure and he wasn't one to follow the crowd. "I may be the new kid here, but no one tells me who to be friends with."

Hurst let out a slow, frustrated breath. "Fine then. Make friends with the Slytherins. See how popular you are."

"Whatever." He glared at Hurst before turning around, hopping into bed and pulling the covers over him. He shut his eyes, picturing himself back at Salem. He'd give anything to be there right now, shooting the breeze with Jared and Artimus in their dorm room, practice dueling with Rosa, or making out with Penny.

O'Bannon clenched his teeth as he felt sleep overtake him. He feared that his year at Hogwarts would be a very, very long one.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	5. The First Day

**CHAPTER 5: THE FIRST DAY**

* * *

><p><em>At least the bed's comfortable.<em>

That was the first positive thing O'Bannon had to say about Hogwarts since setting foot inside the castle. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep.

_Maybe today will be a better day than yesterday. _He hoped so. Heck, he started off with History of Magic, one of his favorite classes. Unfortunately, he wouldn't have Miss Venatici as he had back at Salem. Along with being a great teacher, Miss Venatici was very nice, always helpful, and very, very hot, especially with that Jamaican accent of hers. But so long as he had a decent teacher here, he should be fine.

O'Bannon slid out of bed and began his daily ritual of stretching, followed by lots of push-ups, lots of sit-ups, and free weights. _Which I'm gonna do a lot more of. _He was determined to put on more muscle before he returned to the US.

"What are you doing?" Quincy asked as he got out of bed.

"Exercising," he replied in the middle of a sit-up.

Quincy looked at him like he was out of his mind before he padded off to the bathroom.

Neither Hurst nor Eddleton said good morning to him. They didn't even say good morning to one another. O'Bannon wondered what their problem was. Then he decided since both boys hadn't been friendly toward him, why should he care.

His arms burned as he completed his hundredth arm curl. Sweat covered his body. Normally after this, he would go out for a morning run. But since he didn't know the Hogwarts ground at all, he decided to skip it. Maybe later today he'd take a walk around the place, get a lay of the land, and figure out a good running route. Hopefully this place had plenty of hills. Running up hills was great for endurance.

He showered and got dressed. That's when he noticed that sometime during the night, a crest had formed on his school robes. Red and gold with the image of a lion, the logo for Gryffindor House.

O'Bannon's roommates had already left for the Great Hall by the time he finished dressing. Like he cared. He headed down the stairs into the common room. A few boys and girls sat in a little group, conversing amongst themselves. He looked their way and shot them a friendly smile.

They responded with either neutral looks, or downright nasty glares.

He grumbled under his breath as he climbed through the portrait hole and made his way to the Great Hall.

The reception he got at the Gryffindor table was no better.

"Did you hear the Yank already cost us ten points?" He overheard one girl say. "Chucked a trunk at Hurst, a bloody prefect. What was he thinking?"

"Maybe those Slytherins he was with on the train told him to ask the Sorting Hat to put him into Gryffindor," said one boy. "To sabotage us."

O'Bannon scowled and ate quietly by himself. At least the food here was good. That was something.

He ate quickly and headed back to Gryffindor Tower to get his History of Magic book and Potions supplies. With everything stuffed in his backpack, he turned to the photos on his nightstand, gazing at one with him, Jared, Rosa and Artimus. "Wish me luck, guys."

He then focused on a photo of Penny, her head moving from side-to-side, an alluring smile on her face.

"Wish me luck, babe." O'Bannon kissed his fingertips, gently touched Penny's image, and headed off the class.

Even with the map of Hogwarts sent to him by Professor McGonagall over the summer, it still took a while to locate the History of Magic classroom. Luckily he got there with a couple of minutes to spare. The only table he could find with an empty chair was one where Quincy Questor also sat. The boy already had his textbook open and was reading it.

O'Bannon groaned and sat next to him. Quincy didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't say hello. Instead O'Bannon got out his quill, ink bottle and parchment and looked around for the teacher. He checked his watch. Whoever taught this class should –

A flash of ethereal white caught his attention. The ghost of a hunched, shriveled up old man passed through the blackboard and floated behind a desk. O'Bannon's eyes widened. They actually had a ghost teaching History of Magic?

_This might be cool. _Back at Salem he enjoyed hearing first-hand accounts from the ghost of Priscilla Primrose, one of the school's founders, on the Burning Times, more commonly known as The Salem Witch Trials to Muggles. Who knew what kind of history this guy has personally witnessed?

"This is History of Magic. My name is Professor Binns," the ghost stated in a flat voice. "Turn to page twenty."

O'Bannon did just that. So did the other students. Most of them, anyway. He noticed the redheaded Weasley twins, Fred and George, doodling on a piece of parchment

"The aborted Goblin Revolt of 1827," Binns said, "was the result of a single assault on a goblin in Diagon Alley. On April 3rd, the goblin Krikbok had left his place of work, Gringotts Bank, when he was set upon by three young men, all recent graduates of Hogwarts, and all former members of Slytherin House. The attackers used multiple Stunning Spells on Krikbok and used a Reductor Curse to blow off his right arm. Krikbok fell into a coma. Another goblin, Utmul, complained to the Ministry of Magic's Goblin Liaison Office, but his complaints were ignored. Utmul then decided . . ."

And it went on and on. Binns read straight out of the book in that same monotone voice. He didn't stray once from the text, or engage the students, or do anything to make the subject interesting, like Miss Venatici did.

Even worse, Binns was not pleasant to look at like Miss Venatici.

On and on he went, talking about Utmul holding meetings and raising money and building up caches of weapons. O'Bannon noticed a few students begin to nod off. The Weasley twins talked to the black boy with the dreadlocks. O'Bannon swore he heard one of the redheads say, "No way Dumbledore'll keep us out of the tournament."

Binns took no notice of the Weasley twins' conversation. Heck, O'Bannon wondered if the boring old ghost even realized he had a class in front of him.

On and on and on and on he went. O'Bannon found himself gazing out the window, watching the sun trying to poke out from behind the gray clouds. He wondered what his friends were doing back at Salem right now. Given the time difference, it would be early morning back there. They'd all still be in bed.

_Lucky them._

His eyelids drooped. His mind took him back to a few days ago in Milmothryn Market. There he was in an alcove with Penny, holding her, kissing her. Merlin's beard, she was so beautiful. Merlin's beard, did he miss her.

Chairs scuffed the floor all around him. His eyes flickered open. The students began to stand and collect their things.

_Class is over?_ He rubbed his eyes. Holy crap, did he fall asleep in class? He'd never done that before.

_I also never had a teacher as boring as this Binns guy._

He looked up just in time to see the ghost float through the blackboard and vanish.

O'Bannon scowled and shoved his stuff into his backpack. Great. Just friggin' great! One of his favorite subjects was taught by the most boring person, or ex-person, in the whole world. He had to put up with this for the whole damn school year?

_Can't just one friggin' thing go my way?_

He realized he'd have to wait for something to go his way, because after the snoozefest that was History of Magic, he had Potions next. His absolute worst subject. He also remembered Hadar saying the teacher for that subject, Snape, was a hard-ass.

_Great, so I get the double-whammy._

The moment he set foot into the potions classroom, he grimaced. The class actually took place in a dimly lit, chilly dungeon. Shelves lined the wall, filled with jars of pickled animals.

He spotted Hadar and Dooley at one of the tables on the left side of the classroom, then glanced over at the Gryffindors. He recalled McGonagall's little speech about House unity and stuff, but since no one in his house liked him, why should he sit with them?

O'Bannon strode over to the table and plopped down in the seat next to Hadar. "What's going on, man?"  
>The veins in Hadar's neck stuck out. Still he nodded and said, "Jimmy," in a very low voice. Dooley scooted his chair as far away from him as possible.<p>

O'Bannon sensed the shocked and angry stares from both the Gryffindors and Slytherins. He ignored them.

The sharp cadence of footfalls caught his attention. He turned and saw a man with pale skin and dressed entirely in black striding toward the front of the classroom. Professor Snape, he assumed. The guy had dark, beady eyes and greasy black hair. O'Bannon thought he'd be perfect for a role in a vampire movie.

"When I call your name, you will raise your hand and say 'here'," Snape said in a flat yet ominous-sounding voice.

O'Bannon gritted his teeth, tension knotting his muscles as Snape called the roll. He'd only been around the guy for a couple of minutes, yet he already wished he was back in Mr. Hillenbrand's class. The guy had no personality, but at least he didn't have this intimidating air about him like Snape.

"O'Bannon, Jimmy."

"_Heeh." _O'Bannon briefly raised his hand.

Snape looked up from his scroll, his beady eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

O'Bannon furrowed his brow. He thought he answered clearly enough. "Um, I said _heeh."_

"You mean _here."_

His face scrunched in confusion. "Yeah, that's what I said. _Heeh."_

Snape slammed the scroll down on his desk and slowly strode toward O'Bannon's desk. A few moans went up from the Gryffindors.

_What the hell did I do now?_

Snape stood over him, dark eyes boring in on him. O'Bannon swallowed, but held the teacher's gaze. He'd be damned if anyone would intimidate him.

"Professor McGonagall mentioned you. You are our exchange student for this year, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"That's right, _Professor."_

O'Bannon stifled a groan. "That's right, _Professaah."_

Snape's right cheek twitched. "Tell me, Mister O'Bannon, do the teachers at the Salem Witches Institute encourage their students to speak proper English?"

He grew more confused, wondering what Snape meant. "Um, yeah . . . _Professaah."_

Anger lines etched into Snape's face. "Then are you some sort of exception to the rule at that school?"

"Um, I'm _saah-ree. _I don't understand what you're getting at."

"What I am getting at, Mister O'Bannon, is that when you are in my classroom you will speak proper English, not the mangled version of it you Americans have been speaking since you separated from Great Britain two-hundred and twenty-odd years ago."

A white hot flame of anger burned inside him. His shoulders rose and fell as he glared at the Potions teacher less than a foot from his seat.

"Now address me as 'Professor Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts.' Say it back to me and say back to me properly."

O'Bannon forced his teeth to unclench. "_Professaah _Snape, Potions _Mastah_ at _Haag-waahts."_

Laughter erupted from many of the Slytherins, and even a few of the Gryffindors. O'Bannon felt his skull about to do an imitation of Mount Saint Helens.

Snape, too, looked ready to have his own volcanic eruption. With a final, evil glare, he spun around and headed back to the desk.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

"What!" O'Bannon blurted.

"For not knowing how to speak proper English," Snape added.

"Are you kidding?"

"Five more points from Gryffindor for cheek."

Most of the Gryffindors groaned.

"And while we're at it, why are you, a Gryffindor, sitting on the Slytherin side of the room?"

"Because I-"

Snape cut him off. "Ten points from Gryffindor for not having the brains to figure out where you are supposed to sit. There is an empty seat in the fifth row on your House's side of the room. Move there and move there now!"

O'Bannon grabbed his things and got up, face twisted in absolute fury. The blood pulsated in his head as he stomped over to his new seat. Of all the things to get in trouble for. His accent? His friggin' accent? Merlin's friggin' beard, almost everyone in New England talked like this.

"That's twenty more points he's cost us," one of the Gryffindors said.

He plopped into his new seat, wishing he had something in front of him to punch. Like Snape's ugly face.

"Try not to get any more points docked from us, will you?" hissed the person next to him.

O'Bannon whipped his head around. It was the tall black witch who hung out with the pretty brown-haired witch. Snape had identified her as Angelina Johnson during roll call. She glared at him. He glared back. She didn't blink. Neither did he, until Snape started the lesson. They had to make a Sleeping Dragon Potion. O'Bannon scowled when he saw the instructions in his textbook. Holy crap, was this thing complicated. Then again, what potion wasn't complicated?

He dumped goblets of bat's blood and melted jellyfish into his cauldron, boiled it and stirred. Then he chopped up Hupsug roots and tossed them into the bubbling cauldron, all sorts of foul names for Snape going through his head. His scowl deepened as he stirred the mixture harder and harder.

"You're stirring too fast, O'Bannon!" Snape hollered.

He closed his eyes, holding back the urge to tell this jagoff to do something anatomically impossible.

Snape stomped over to his desk and glared down at his cauldron. "How much bat's blood did you put in? Were the Hupsug roots cut in precisely half-inch intervals? Look at the color! It should be light green, not dark blue. Do they even bother with Potions instructions at Salem?"

O'Bannon shook with anger. He swore his vision started to turn red.

"Well answer me -"

An explosion burst from his cauldron. A gusher of thick dark blue liquid struck Snape in the face. He stumbled back, somehow staying on his feet.

Everyone in the classroom stood statue still, all their eyes on Snape. The Potions Master stood in the middle of the aisle. Gobs of blue sludge covered his robes and his face, which shriveled up like a prune. Snape wiped the goop from his eyes and aimed a stare of pure hatred O'Bannon's way.

_This is soooo not good._

Snape drew a pair of very slow, very angry breaths. "Fifty . . . points . . . from . . . Gryffindor."

A collective moan went up from O'Bannon's side of the room.

"Thanks to our incompetent exchange student," Snape hissed, "I must now go to the Hospital Wing. Your homework is to write an essay, fourteen inches of parchment, on the dangers of an improperly prepared Sleeping Dragon Potion. Class dismissed!"

Snape stormed out of the classroom.

Several of the Gryffindors turned toward him. Some shook their heads. Others muttered harshly under their breaths. Angelina bared her teeth. "Can you do anything right?"

O'Bannon found he was too angry to speak. He snatched his cauldron, washed it out in the sink in the back of the classroom, and returned to the table to get the rest of his things.

"Eighty points, Yank," a Gryffindor said to him. "At this rate we'll be in negative numbers by the end of the week."

He put his stuff into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Stupid Sorting Hat shoulda put me into Hufflepuff." He made sure to say it loud enough for everyone to hear him.

"I wish you were in Hufflepuff, too," said Angelina. "Then we wouldn't be stuck with you."

"Yeah, well unfortunately you are stuck with me, and unfortunately for me, I'm stuck with all of you!"

He stomped out of the classroom, feeling many angry eyes drilling holes into his back.

O'Bannon was in a foul mood for the rest of the day. He didn't even bother going to lunch. He went back to his dorm room and ate some of the snack crackers his parents had given him for the trip and the leftover candy he bought on the Hogwarts Express. His lone afternoon class, Transfiguration, also didn't go well for him. His teachers at Salem told him during his First Year that your mood can greatly affect your spellcasting. He had a reminder of that when he tried to transform his quill into a potted plant. He jabbed his wand so hard at the quill the bolt of orange light it produced blasted the table in half. Professor McGonagall had not been pleased, but at least she didn't take points from Gryffindor. That was some small blessing.

After Transfiguration, he dumped off his stuff in his room and went outside to walk around the grounds. He had no particular destination in mind. He just walked. By the Quidditch Pitch. By the greenhouses used for Herbology Class. Near the edge of the Forbidden Forest – _I wonder how many stupid points I'd get docked for going in there?_

He headed down to the lake and chucked stones into it, trying to do his best impression of the former Red Sox pitcher Roger Clemens throwing a fastball.

_Why the hell is nothing going right for me at this place? _His first day at Salem hadn't been this bad. Heck, by the end of his first dinner there he'd made a handful of friends. Many of them, especially Jared and Rosa, really helped him understand the ins and outs of the Wizarding World.

Here no one seemed willing to tell him the differences between Salem and Hogwarts. They appeared content to let him mess up, then get pissed at him.

_Screw 'em all!_ O'Bannon flung a rock into the lake. He closed his eyes, imagining the colonial-style buildings that made up the Salem Witches Institute. He imagined himself in Miss Venatici's class, greeting them as she normally did with, "Good mornin' me lovie dovies." He imagined himself, along with Jared, Rosa and Artimus, having practice duels behind Blazenrowe Hall. He pictured himself out on the ice with his dorm's hockey team, and in the stands cheering on Rana and Darius and Gregory and the rest of the Blazenrowe Quidditch team.

He also pictured himself holding Penny in his arms and kissing her.

O'Bannon crouched down, tossing a stone from one hand to the other. June. He was stuck here until June. Nine months. Nine long friggin' months. Was every day going to be like today?

_There's gotta be a way to make things better. _Maybe he could ask Professor McGonagall if he could switch dorms from Gryffindor to Hufflepuff. He doubted he'd be the first kid at Hogwarts to make such a request. Besides, the Sorting Hat told him he had qualities to make him a good Hufflepuff.

When he checked his watch, he saw it was almost dinner time. Sighing, he got to his feet and trudged back to the castle.

Students had already begun to file into the Great Hall by the time he got there. O'Bannon spotted Hadar and Dooley and waited until he got closer to them before speaking.

"Hey, Hadar. Crazy friggin' day, huh?"

"Don't talk to me!" Hadar snapped.

O'Bannon looked at him in shock.

"Stop talking to me. Stop trying to be my friend. We're not friends, got it? You're Gryffindor, I'm Slytherin. So go be with your lot and stop bothering me."

Hadar stalked off. O'Bannon watched him go, mouth agape. Out the corner of his eye he noticed Malfoy and his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, grinning wide.

"Looks like you lost your Slytherin friend, huh, Yank?"

O'Bannon whipped around to find Eddleton smirking at him. Most of the other Gryffindors also looked his way, some wearing the same smirking expression as Eddleton.

O'Bannon's head trembled with anger. He stomped into the Great Hall and snatched up a napkin from the Gryffindor table. He grabbed some drumsticks and rolls, wrapped them up, and stomped back out.

"Mister O'Bannon," said Professor McGonagall when he passed her. "Supper is that way."

"I'd rather eat in my dorm."

"But no one is in Gryffindor Tower."

"That's why I'd rather eat there." He jogged up the stairs before McGonagall could say anything else.

"Password?" the fat lady asked when he reached the portrait.

"Balderdash!"

The fat lady narrowed her eyes at him. "There is no reason to be rude."

"Whatever," he grumbled as the portrait swung open.

O'Bannon went up to his room and wolfed down his dinner. When he finished, he snatched a piece of parchment from his desk and sat down.

_Dear Rosa, Jared and Artimus._

He chewed his lip, wondering how he should start off his letter. He could only think of one way.

_Hogwarts sucks!_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	6. Mad Eye Moody

**CHAPTER 6: MAD-EYE MOODY**

* * *

><p>The next day brought good news for O'Bannon, to some extent. During breakfast, he overheard some of the Gryffindors laughing about how the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody, had transformed Malfoy into a ferret. From what he gathered, the jagoff pulled a wand on Harry Potter when his back was turned. Moody saw this, hexed Malfoy, and bounced his little rodent butt all over the hallway.<p>

O'Bannon laughed, the first time he'd done that since coming to Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, he had no one to share that laughter with. He tried to imagine himself with Rosa, Jared, Artimus and a few other friends at Salem falling over themselves laughing at Malfoy's misfortune.

Imagining it, however, was not the same as the real thing.

His Tuesday classes started off with Herbology, a subject he felt rather indifferent about. The teacher was a plump, cheery witch named Professor Sprout, who showed them the proper way to pluck the buds from Amarants. Do it wrong and the whole plant shook and gave off a high-pitched squeal.

He plucked most of the buds from his plant correctly. When he hadn't, Sprout offered him advice in a friendly and civilized manner.

At least Hogwarts had one teacher who wasn't a bore, a tight-ass, or a total buttwipe.

Next came Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had them clear out an infestation of Bundimuns from a ramshackle hut he had set up specifically for the lesson. It hadn't been easy. Bundimuns, which resembled large boogers with numerous eyes, tended to spit acid when anyone bothered them. A pair of Gryffindors, including Fred Weasley, learned that the hard way when parts of their robes smoldered.

No acid came O'Bannon's way. In fact, he used a Scouring Charm to get rid of two Bundimuns.

"Excellent work, Jimmy." Hagrid clapped. "Five points for Gryffindor."

O'Bannon's eyes bulged. Did someone actually award him House points? Holy crap, would wonders never ceased?

He turned to the other Gryffindors, who appeared absolutely stunned that the words "points" and "for" and "Jimmy" had been used in the same sentence. He swore he saw a hint of a smile on the face of one of the Weasley twins. George, it had to be, since Fred had tiny wisps of smoke coming from his robes.

"He'll probably lose those points before lunch." It was Eddleton who'd said that.

Many of the Gryffindors nodded.

O'Bannon scowled. _I can't friggin' win around here._

He ate lunch by himself, reading a copy of Wizarding Britain's main newspaper, _The Daily Prophet, _he found lying discarded on a table in the common room. It was dated the day before, but so what? Everything in it was news to him. He'd just begun reading an article titled, FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC when Dennis Creevey bounced past.

"Hi, Jimmy. Are you enjoying Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, about as much as I enjoy getting the flu."

Dennis gave him a perplexed look before bouncing off.

O'Bannon frowned. Just great. The one person in his House who'd actually talk to him was a hyperactive 11-year-old who watched _Power Rangers._

_Well, maybe that'll change after today._

He set down the paper without bothering to read the article, wolfed down the rest of his roast beef sandwich and headed out of the Great Hall. He had a free period before Charms, and sought out Professor McGonagall in her office. He explained to her how was having issues with all his housemates, how he didn't see the situation changing, and requested a transfer to Hufflepuff House, since the Sorting Hat almost assigned him there anyway.

Judging by the expression on McGonagall's face, one would think O'Bannon had ripped off the old witch's hat, pissed in it, and put it back on her head.

"The reputation of Gryffindor House is known far beyond the borders of this country, Mister O'Bannon. Its very name is synonymous with courage and daring and boldness. Do those virtues mean nothing to you?"

"Sure they do, but -"

She cut him off. "Most people would consider it the greatest of honors to be sorted into this House. Yet after only two days, you wish to be assigned to another House?"

"Well I did request Hufflepuff, not Slytherin." O'Bannon fought to keep from wincing. Jeez, he sounded like most of dillweeds in Gryffindor with that statement.

Again, McGonagall looked gravely offended. "Mister O'Bannon, the Sorting Hat had its reasons for putting you in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff. And not a single staff member at this school, including Professor Dumbledore, would even conceive of changing any decision made by the Sorting Hat. It, and it alone, has the final say on which House a student belongs in."

"But everyone in Gryffindor hates me."

"Then I suggest you find a way to rectify that situation, Mister O'Bannon, as you will be with us for the entire year."

McGonagall's tone indicated the conversation was over.

O'Bannon glared at her. He got up, stomped to the door, and slammed it shut behind him.

_Thanks for nothing. _One little request to change his dorm and McGonagall wouldn't do it. Students could switch dorms at Salem. Heck, his and Jared's old roommate, Pilum Crassus, moved to Krallenhurst after their First Year. That allowed Artimus, who'd also been at Krallenhurst during First Year, to come over and be their new roommate.

_So what's the big deal? _Why should McGonagall get all pissed because he wanted to move from Gryffindor to Hufflepuff? If anything, you'd think she'd want him out of her House given all the points he'd cost them.

But that wouldn't happen. He'd be stuck in Gryffindor his entire time here at Hogwarts. His mood grew fouler with each step.

It didn't help matters when Peeves, the school's resident poltergeist, smashed a Pumpkin Pastie on his head. O'Bannon aimed a fiery stare at the entity as it soared down the corridor, howling with laughter.

"I hate this friggin' school."

**XXXXX**

The next morning he followed his routine of stretching, push-ups, sit-ups and weights with a run around the school grounds. It was the most relaxed he'd felt since coming to Hogwarts. He had no one around to yell at him and give him crap or just pretend he didn't exist. Heck, right now Hogwarts didn't exist for him. It was just rolling lawns, the pebble-strewn shore of the lake, and the cool morning air that existed. If he could, he'd spend the rest of the day running around the grounds. He might even run out the main gate and just keep running.

_Why the hell not?_

In the end, after doing about two miles, he headed back into the castle, showered, dressed and had breakfast. Today was Wednesday, his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He'd already named Moody his favorite teacher at Hogwarts, simply for turning that walking pile of crap Malfoy into a ferret. Come to think of it, Malfoy did look a bit like a ferret to begin with.

When he reached the classroom, he seated himself next to Quincy Questor, who was already reading their textbook, _Confronting the Faceless. _Quincy ignored O'Bannon, and vice versa. When he thought about it, Quincy seemed to ignore everyone in Gryffindor. Everyone at Hogwarts, for that matter. He figured he shouldn't take Quincy's cold shoulder personally.

Everyone else's cold shoulder, well, that was another matter.

The classroom door banged open, then banged closed. Professor Moody scowled as he limped up to his desk and snatched a piece of parchment.

"Speak up when I call your name," he practically growled. "Arnfelt, Bernard."

"Here, Sir," said a black boy of average height with a solid build.

Moody's magical eye focused in on him. "Arnfelt. Yer dad's Garrett Arnfelt, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Mm. Worked with him a few times. Good auror."

Arnfelt smiled proudly.

Moody continued down the roll, sometimes stopping to ask a student if they were related to some witch or wizard he'd worked with.

"O'Bannon, Jimmy."

"_Heeh."_

Now Moody's magical eye locked on him. O'Bannon felt his chest tighten. Damn, but that eye was kinda creepy.

"You're the Yank, right?"

"Um, yeah." Nervousness coiled around his insides. Was Moody about to get on him for his accent, too?

Instead, the retired auror nodded and said, "I know the chap who runs your Aurors Bureau, Justinian Juris. You Yanks could do better than him, in my opinion."

O'Bannon had to agree with the man, going by some of the things Rosa's and Jared's parents had told him in confidence about Juris.

Moody went down the rest of the roll, ending with the Weasley twins.

"I know your father, Arthur," he said. "A bit eccentric, but knows how to handle himself in a fight."

Both Weasleys looked proud at that fact.

"Right." Moody crumpled up the parchment with the roll call and tossed it over his shoulder. "Everyone, take out your books. _Confronting the Faceless, _if I'm not mistaken."

O'Bannon removed the book from his pack.

"Now chuck 'em!"

He furrowed his brow. So did many other students.

"You heard me!" Moody bellowed. "Chuck 'em! Get rid of 'em!"

The Weasley twins grinned wide. With great flourish, they flung their books across the room. Others followed their lead.

_Well, if the teacher says it . . ._ O'Bannon turned, found Simon Hurst, and hurled the book in his direction. It missed the prefect's head by a good six inches.

"Hey!" Hurst glared at him.

O'Bannon smiled. Out the corner of his eye, he swore he saw the Weasley twins look his way and chuckle, as did the black boy with dreadlocks who always hung out with them. Lee Jordan was his name.

"You think you can learn how to defend yourself just by reading a book?" Moody stalked back and forth in front of the desk. "You think sitting at your desks and waving your wands about will make you a decent duelist? Well do you?"

Many students, including O'Bannon, avoided eye contact with Moody.

"Of course it won't!" he roared. "But by the time I'm done with you, you'll all be able to hold your own in a fight! And why's that? Because we're not going to just read about this stuff. We're going to actually do it!"

O'Bannon sat up straighter, his interest piqued. He loved hands-on lessons, and it sounded like DADA would be that for the entire year.

"Everybody stand up!"

The students got out of their seats. With a flick of his wand Moody slid the tables and chairs against the walls, giving them a large, clear space in the middle of the classroom.

"First, I need to find out what I'm working with. Now, you're all Sixth Years. So by now you should be well-versed on Stunning Spells, Shield Charms and Constrictus Curses, Correct?"

The students either nodded or responded softly with, "Yeah . . . Mm-hmm . . . Uh-huh?"

"I asked you if I was correct!"

This time they all barked out, "Yes!" Many, including O'Bannon, tacked on "Sir!" He started to feel like the US Marine recruits he saw on a History Channel documentary, with the thickly-built Drill Instructor constantly yelling at them.

"Good. Now, we're going to have ourselves some duels. Show me what you've got. Eddleton! Jordan! Yer up!"

Both boys walked to the middle of the room and bowed.

"Oh ta hell with the bowing!" Moody barked. "No dark wizard's gonna bow to you out there. He's gonna try to kill you. Fair fights are for Dueling Clubs, not the real world. Now get to it."

Lee looked a little shocked by all this.

Eddleton took advantage by knocking Lee's wand out of his hand with a Disarming Charm, then putting him on his back with a Stunning Spell.

Moody had them duel again. This time Lee got the better of Eddleton. They went five more rounds, Eddleton winning three, Lee two.

Moody called on other students. Sometimes they went multiple rounds, other times only one. Many times Moody yelled at them, a few times he actually praised them, though usually with some critical comment tacked on at the end. He was particularly harsh on Alicia Spinnet, a thin, pale raven-haired witch. A couple times she stumbled without being hit by any spells or curses, and her spells usually went wild.

"Please, Professor," Angelina spoke up. "Alicia fell into a bed of Blue Dreariums over the summer. Her balance is affected whenever she exerts herself."

Moody grunted in acknowledgment, then nodded for Alicia to go back with the rest of her classmates. Angelina helped her across the floor.

_Huh? The girl actually has a little bit of a heart._

"Johnson! O'Bannon! Yer up!"

O'Bannon grinned as he headed for the center of the classroom, ready to show these Gryffindor jackasses what he could do.

"Teach him a lesson, Ang!" he heard Eddleton call out.

That got his blood boiling.

_My mom and dad say you shouldn't fight angry, _he recalled Rosa's words during one of their practice duels. _You make mistakes when you fight angry._

O'Bannon took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He also recalled what Moody had just said, about how fair fights were for Dueling Clubs. In the real world, you did whatever it took to win.

_Well, if that's his philosophy . . ._

He looked across the room at Angelina Johnson. She casually strode toward the middle of the room, looking down at her feet instead of at him. O'Bannon watched her arms swing back and forth as she walked.

He stopped and whipped out his wand. _"Freezium!"_

A white beam shot from his wand and struck Angelina's right hand. A solid block of ice formed over it. She stared down at it, gaping. "What th-"

"_Stupefy!"_

A red beam nailed Angelina in the gut. Her arms went up in the air as she collapsed.

"Oh yeah." O'Bannon flipped his wand in the air, caught it, and blew on the tip like a gunfighter from a Western movie.

"Whoa," he heard both Weasley twins mutter as they stared at a groaning Angelina. Most of the other Gryffindors appeared shocked.

"He cheated!" Hurst cried out. "He never even gave Angelina a chance to get her wand out."

"You think some dark wizard will give you the chance to get your wand out to fight him?" Moody hollered. "You need to get the drop on your opponent before he gets the drop on you! Constant Vigilance! Johnson! You need to be watching your opponent at all times, not watching the bloody floor!"

"Yes, Professor," Angelina replied in a groggy voice as she slowly got to her feet.

O'Bannon smiled even wider as he watched her.

"And O'Bannon!"

"Um, yes, Professor?"

"Never flip your wand like that. That wand stays in your hand at all times. There could be another attacker out there who could send a curse at you while you're busy showing off! Got it?"

"Yes, Professor." Unlike with Snape, O'Bannon didn't get mad at Moody's criticism. He did have a point. He also didn't dock him any points like Snape certainly would have.

_Firm but fair. _That was the best way to sum up Moody. He could live with a teacher like that.

"In fact," Moody said, "let's see how you fair against two opponents."

O'Bannon gritted his teeth. He'd been in two-on-one duels when he practiced with Rosa, Jared and Artimus. More often than not he came out on the losing end than the winning end, especially if Rosa was one of his two opponents.

"Arnfelt! Get over here with Johnson."

_Aw great. The auror's kid. _If his father was anything like Rosa's, he would have taught him a few spells and curses they didn't teach you in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

When Angelina got to her feet and melted the ice from her arm, Moody said, "Re-"

Arnfelt cast a Rubber Bone Hex at O'Bannon. He barely blocked it.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy!" _Fury burned in Angelina's tone as she cast her stunners.

O'Bannon blocked those as well. He sprinted to the left and fired off a pair of Disarming Charms. Angelina and Arnfelt blocked them. O'Bannon cast a Heating Charm on the floor. The bricks glowed red and spread out toward Angelina and Arnfelt. They used Water Charms to cool off the floor. A mass of steam rose into the air. O'Bannon hadn't thought about that happening, but immediately took advantage.

"_Freezium!"_

A huge ice wall formed between him and his two opponents.

"What the bloody hell?" he heard Arnfelt shout.

O'Bannon raised his wand and cast a Flare Charm. He turned away. Seconds later he heard a deep _pop_, followed by painful cries. More than two of them. Several of the students not involved in the duel apparently didn't turn away in time.

No time to think about that. He raced around the ice wall and saw Angelina and Arnfelt covering their eyes.

"_Constrictus!"_

Thick vines burst from the floor and wrapped around both his opponents. He easily rid them of their wands with a Disarming Spell.

"Not bad," Moody told him. "Still, you need to follow up your flare attack quicker. And peer around that ice wall of yours before you jump out. More experienced wizards and witches can counter that Flare Charm. Then you'll be a sitting duck."

"Yes, Professor."

"You just got lucky, that's all," Arnfelt snapped at him.

O'Bannon slowly strode over to him. Arnfelt rapidly blinked his eyes, no doubt fighting the after effects of the Flare Charm. Nearby, the Weasley twins both wore impressed looks.

O'Bannon leaned closer to Arnfelt. "Somethin' you oughta know. Two of my best friends back at Salem, half their family are aurors. And the three of us have practice duels all the time. This wasn't luck. This was skill."

He turned around and walked away, feeling pretty damn proud of himself. Why not? He just showed his housemates that the Yank who seemingly couldn't do anything right was kick-ass in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

What he did today may not have won him any friends, but it should have taught the Gryffindors one thing.

If you push Jimmy O'Bannon long enough and hard enough, he would push back . . . big time.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	7. SPEWed

**CHAPTER 7: SPEWed**

* * *

><p>As the days wore on, O'Bannon tried to accept his circumstances best he could. He used the time he'd normally hang out with friends to do his homework, and the teachers at Hogwarts had assigned massive amounts of it. He also spent more time lifting, either with free weights or by putting a Weight Charm on a broomstick. All the while, he tried to convince himself that he did not feel lonely.<p>

But that was a lie. Many times during meals he scanned for any owls headed his way. It had been over a week since he sent Espo back to the US with his letter to Rosa, Jared and Artimus. He still didn't know what to do as far as writing his parents. How worried would Mom be if he told her everything that had happened to him at this place?

Worst of all, no matter how hard he tried to prevent it, he always managed to do something that cost Gryffindor points. Twice he got caught by prefects in the corridors after hours, both times getting lost coming back from the library. Stupid magical staircases that changed their location from one day to the next.

The first time cost him five points. The second time it had been fifteen. Five for being caught in the corridors, and ten more because the prefect who caught him, Simon Hurst, decided to give him a lecture on the importance of following school rules.

"Aw, tell it to someone who gives a crap."

Hurst took the whole "do not show disrespect to a prefect during the performance of his or her duties" thing very seriously.

Every time O'Bannon went through the entrance hall, his eyes drifted to the four large hourglasses mounted to the wall. Each one was filled with colorful rubies, and represented the points earned or lost by each House. Gryffindor had a lot more rubies in the bottom half of its hourglass than the other three Houses. Sometimes when he walked past, a crowd of Gryffindors stood in front of the hourglass, looking upset and shaking their heads. A few of them aimed scowls his way.

O'Bannon scowled back.

He did have some bright spots in his otherwise suck-ass days. Charms had become a favorite class of his. The teacher, Professor Flitwick, may have been shorter than Dennis Creevey, but what he lacked in height he made up for in sheer talent. Plus the little teacher was a very nice, very humorous guy.

But no class could compare with Defense Against the Dark Arts. While some complained that Professor Moody had turned it into an auror training course, O'Bannon loved every minute of it. He'd much rather use his wand than open a book for this subject. His second DADA class had been even better than his first. Moody took them outside, told them he'd placed a pennant in the middle of the Quidditch field, and whoever captured it would not have to do that day's homework.

"And before I forget, every wizard and witch for themselves!"

They dashed across the school grounds, dozens of multi-colored bolts sizzling through the air. O'Bannon took out five of his classmates, including Arnfelt, before one of the Weasleys blindsided him with a Stunning Spell. In the end, only the Weasley twins remained, and stood proudly next to the pennant.

"I said everyone for themselves!" Moody bellowed. "Now one of you stun the other, or you'll both wind up doing that homework."

Fred and George looked to one another. Both raised their wands at the same time. Both yelled, _"Stupefy!" _at the same time.

Both fell to the ground at the same time.

Winner, no one.

Still it was an awesome class, so awesome he barely noticed Arnfelt's glare as they headed back to the castle.

_Looks like someone's not gonna follow in their father's footsteps._

On Friday, O'Bannon ate lunch in the Great Hall, at the far end of the Gryffindor table as usual, and read a copy of _The Daily Prophet. _The paper continued to hammer the Ministry of Magic over the attack on the Quidditch World Cup. But he hadn't seen any stories about Death Eaters causing further trouble. He became convinced the attack had been an isolated incident, just like Mrs. Diaz told him before he left.

_They probably figure they had some fun, now it's time to crawl back under their rock and stay there._

A small dark shape appeared in his peripheral vision. He turned as a familiar-looking owl swooped toward him.

"Espo!" He beamed as the dark-colored bird landed beside him. "Am I glad to see a friendly face."

O'Bannon stroked the owl under its chin as it dropped an envelope in front of him. He tore off a piece of his sandwich for Espo, gave the bird a goblet of water to drink from and opened the envelope.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_Rosa here. I'm so sorry things are so horrible for you there. What's wrong with all the kids over there? I can't believe not a single person there can see what a great guy you are. Merlin's beard, I wish there was something we could do to help. Please hang in there. I'm sure things will get better soon. They have to._

O'Bannon frowned. _Don't hold your breath._

Jared's paragraph came next. _Yo, man! That sucks that things suck at Hogwarts. And, dude, it sucks not having you here with us. We all miss you. Don't let all those buttheads over there get to you. Everyone back here loves your Muggle-born ass._

He couldn't help but laugh over that line.

Artimus went last. _Hi, Jimmy. I'm sorry things are not going well for you at Hogwarts. I wish I had some advice on how to make things better for you, but I don't. I'm sorry. I hope things improve for you soon._

He read the letter over and over again. Being stuck at this school with so many people who couldn't stand him, it was easy to forget there were others in the world who actually liked him. A feeling he hadn't had in nearly two weeks swelled inside him. Happiness. Happiness over this small connection to three people back at Salem he considered his brothers and sister.

He'd be even happier if he got a letter from Penny.

That happened the next day at breakfast. The letter, which carried the flowery scent of perfume, mentioned how much she missed him and how sorry she was he hated it at Hogwarts and how she wished he could come back to Salem.

_Just keep me in your thoughts, like I'm keeping you in mine. _

_I love you always._

_Penny_

O'Bannon didn't think it possible to feel happy and depressed at the same time. But that turned out to be the case after he read Penny's letter. He felt thrilled to hear from his girlfriend. Then a hole formed in his chest when he realized how much he missed her.

He kept the two letters in his pocket. It made him feel like he had his friends and girlfriend with him in spirit. Maybe he could use that to help him get through this ordeal, to let him know no matter how bad things got at Hogwarts, there were at least four people out there who gave a damn about him.

By Saturday afternoon, O'Bannon had most of his homework finished. He decided to take a break by going to the library and doing something he'd wanted to do since his first night at Hogwarts.

Learn more about this Tri-Wizard Tournament.

He came across what looked like a perfect book. _The Entire, Complete, Definitive History of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. _O'Bannon pulled the thick leather-bound book from the shelf and strode down the aisle. He passed a table occupied by a short girl with long dirty blond hair and radish-shaped earrings. She stared at the cover of a book that had drawings of several magical creatures. That's all she did. Stare at it. She made no attempt to open the book. He also swore he heard the girl mutter, "That's not right. No it's not."

He found an empty table, far away from the strange girl, sat down and opened the book.

_Holy crap, _he thought after reading the first seven pages. The opening chapter detailed those tournaments in which none of the school champions survived. That had happened in half the tournaments. A few times they all died in the same task, like in 1664 when the champions tried to defeat a chimera. Another example took place in 1739, when the champions tried, and obviously failed, to get through a nest of acromantulas.

_And they want to bring this thing back?_

O'Bannon shook his head. Even had he been seventeen, even with Dumbledore's assurance that the tournament had been made safer, there was no way in hell he'd enter this thing.

"Excuse me. But is that _The Entire, Complete, Definitive History of the Tri-Wizard Tournament _you have there?"

O'Bannon looked up from the book. A short girl with bushy brown hair and buck teeth stood in front of the table, arms crossed, looking impatient.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Because I had wanted to read that."

_And people in Hell want ice water. _Somehow, he kept himself from saying that. Maybe having the letters from Penny and Rosa and Jared and Artimus in his pockets, feeling like they were watching over him, made him behave himself.

"Um . . . well, I'm reading it right now. You can have it when I'm done."

The girl's brow furrowed. "Oh! You must be that American exchange student. O'Bannon, right?"

"Tha's me."

"Wonderful." The girl dropped into the chair opposite him and thrust out her hand. "Hermione Granger. I'm a Fourth Year here."

O'Bannon stared at Hermione's hand in shock. Somebody in Gryffindor was actually being nice to him?

He decided not to pass up the opportunity and shook her hand. "Jimmy O'Bannon. Sixth Year."

"Excellent. Now, being from America, you would be perfect for our organization."

O'Bannon drew his head back, puzzled. "What organization?"

Hermione reached into her pocket and placed a green badge on the table. He picked it up and looked at the four large black letters imprinted on it.

"SPEW? Yeah, that sounds nice."

The skin around Hermione's nose crinkled in annoyance. "Not 'spew.' S-P-E-W. Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

O'Bannon's eyes flickered between the badge and Hermione. "Okay? Why do elves need their welfare promoted?"

Hermione let out a short gasp, as though offended he didn't know anything about this SPEW group. Moments later, a look of understanding came over her face. "Of course. Being from America you wouldn't know about the mistreatment of our House Elves."

"Huh?"

"Well your elves are all free. Mind you, it took your country seventy years after The Great Break with our country to do it. Nonetheless, America has recognized the injustice of elf enslavement. You don't keep your elves hidden from the wizarding public like we do here. I'm sure you must have elves at your school, which one is it?"

"Salem."

"Oh yes. The first officially established wizarding school in America, if you don't count the ones created by your indigenous peoples before the Europeans arrived. But surely you must see House Elves . . ."

"Servant Elves."

"Servant Elves, right. Anyway, you must see them around your school, correct?"

O'Bannon shrugged. "Yeah, sure. They're always around, wiping windows and cleaning the floors and tending the gardens."

"Oh, excellent. Then you can see for yourself how much your elves enjoy their freedom."

His eyes widened in disbelief. "Enjoy? Look, um, Hermione, our elves don't enjoy anything."

"How can you say that? They're free. They get paid."

"Yeah, and they're also the most miserable creatures I've ever met. And as far as getting paid, if you want a Servant Elf to do something, you have to tip 'em _before _they lift a finger to work. Oh yeah, and whatever you tip 'em, they never think it's enough, and they're not afraid to tell you."

"Oh. I didn't realize that." Hermione lowered her eyes for a moment, then looked back up at him. "Still, it's their right to be miserable if they want. After all, they're free. Can you imagine what would happen if one of our House Elves got cheeky with their master?"

O'Bannon didn't know enough about British elves to say one way or another.

"Look," Hermione continued. "All it takes to join S-P-E-W is two Sickles. That buys you the badge, and whatever is leftover will go to fund our leaflet campaign. Best of all, being from America, you can be our chief spokesman and help rally people to our cause by telling them how freedom has benefited the elves in America."

O'Bannon barked out a laugh. "Are you serious? Me? Your spokesman? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly popular in Gryffindor. If you want someone to help you drum up membership for 'spew'," Hermione's nostrils flared at that word, "you better find someone else."

"Well, the reason you're not popular is because you keep costing our House points. Gryffindor takes winning the House Cup very seriously."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Hermione scowled at his sarcastic comment. "Anyway, one thing you need to do is stop being smart toward the prefects. In a way, they are an extension of the teachers' authority. And you also need to make sure to get back to Gryffindor Tower well before curfew. Honestly, that's about the easiest rule here to follow. There should be no reason to break it."

Now O'Bannon began to stew. First this girl comes off as wanting to be his friend, then she starts lecturing him?

_I don't need this crap._

"You know what?" He pushed himself away from the table. "I just remembered I have something else to do. The book's yours, if you want it. Have a good one."

"Oh." Hermione appeared a little put off. "Well, um, thank you. Oh! I hope you weren't reading about the Tri-Wizard Tournament to find a way to fool that impartial judge, like Fred and George are. That's sure to cost our House more points."

O'Bannon closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Somehow, he kept himself from turning around and ripping into Hermione. He just grumbled under his breath and stalked out of the library.

_That girl will make a good prefect._

He continued down the corridor, ignoring the suits of armor, the statues and the moving tapestries that lined it. How could he keep having bad luck with all the kids at this school? Finally he came across someone who acted civilized toward him and she turned out to be some bossy wingnut for a group named after a bodily function.

O'Bannon reached into his pocket and pulled out his letters. Just seeing Penny's writing was enough to settle him down. Reading Jared's paragraph made him laugh again. Even with his sucky circumstances here at Hogwarts, Jared found a way to put a humorous twist on it and make him smile. O'Bannon felt lucky to have a best friend like Jared Diaz.

And best friends like Rosa Infante and Artimus Rand.

And an awesome, smoking hot girlfriend like Penny Nich-

"Hey, O'Bannon!"

He spun around. That sounded like –

He glimpsed Bernard Arnfelt leaning out from behind a suit of armor ten feet away. An orange beam tore through the letters in his hand, blasting them into confetti, and struck him in the chest. O'Bannon stumbled back. His skin sloshed about. He felt like a dozen balloons tried to burst from his body. Boils the size of basketballs rose from his arms and head and chest. He lost his balance and toppled over.

Laughter reached his ears. He looked up and saw a smirking Arnfelt standing over him.

"How's that for skill, you tosser?"

Arnfelt headed off, his laughter echoing off the stone walls.

O'Bannon half-stumbled, half-crawled in the direction of the Hospital Wing. It took about fifteen minutes, but eventually he came upon the entrance way. He smiled. Hopefully the school nurse could rid him of these boils.

_Arnfelt. Asshole. _

He was three steps from the entrance when Peeves flew past and dumped two full ink bottles on his head.

The school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, went pale with shock when she heard the words O'Bannon screamed at the top of his lungs.

**XXXXX**

A simple _Scourgify _spell got rid of the ink. The boils, unfortunately, proved more difficult. O'Bannon had to spend the rest of the weekend in the Hospital Wing as Madam Pomfrey used a combination of spells and foul-tasting potions to make them go away.

She also lectured him about his foul language.

O'Bannon didn't say a word back to her. In fact, he barely said a word period his entire time in the Hospital Wing. Most times he just stared at the wall. Anger burned inside him, every second, every minute, every hour. He did nothing to lessen it. On the contrary, he stoked it until it raged like a forest fire. It was easy to do. He just had to imagine the face of one person. One crap-sucking, piss-drinking walking bucket of snail puke.

Bernard Arnfelt.

What the hell was his problem? So he'd bested him in a couple duels. So what? How many times had Rosa beaten him in duels back at Salem? Sure he wanted to win every time. As an athlete, he was naturally competitive. But he'd never conceive of ambushing Rosa like that just because she beat him.

Thinking of Rosa also made him think of the letters, the letters Arnfelt's damn spell blew apart, the letters that made him feel connected to his friends back at Salem. He doubted there was enough left of the letters to put them back together even with magic. Even if there had been, by now Hogwarts' unpleasant custodian, Mr. Filch, would have swept them up and put them in the garbage.

They were gone. Jared's humorous words of encouragement. Penny's perfume scented letter with the words, _"I love you always."_ They were all gone. Gone forever.

Madam Pomfrey discharged him shortly after he woke up Monday morning. His face, arms and shoulders still bore massive red welts. Madam Pomfrey had given him a healing balm which should clear them up in a couple of days.

O'Bannon stalked back to Gryffindor Tower. He could feel his face turn dark red, and it had nothing to do with the welts. When he entered the common room, he caught sight of several students watching him, then quickly looking away. He noticed the brunette and the Indian girl – Lavender and Parvati he thought their names were – snickering behind their hands.

He whipped his head toward them.

Both girls shut up immediately.

He showered, dressed and stomped back down the stairs. The few students in the common room determinedly avoided looking his way.

O'Bannon's fists clenched the entire way to the Great Hall. Arnfelt's face hovered in his mind's eye. Then his letters would take its place. Letters he no longer had. He tried to recall the exact scent of the perfume Penny had put on her letter, but a memory could never take the place of the real thing.

He approached the entrance to the Great Hall, and froze. Standing near the arched doorway was Arnfelt, chatting with a couple of friends. O'Bannon also caught sight of the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan nearby. Their heads swung his way, then to Arnfelt.

The auror's son must have spotted him, for he looked O'Bannon's way and laughed.

"You're looking much better today, O'Bannon. Fancy another go in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Arnfelt and his two friends laughed even louder.

O'Bannon couldn't say for sure what happened next. It felt like something just exploded in his brain. Suddenly he felt his hands clutching Arnfelt's robes and slamming him against the brick wall. He shouted something, but had no idea what words came from his mouth. He just knew they were angry words.

Arms draped all over him, trying to move him. O'Bannon kept his grip on Arnfelt and slammed him into the wall again.

"Pry him off, Lee!"

"What the hell do you think I'm doing, Fred?"

"Blimey! This Yank's not big, but he's bloody strong!"

O'Bannon clenched his teeth, feeling his grip slacken from Arnfelt's robes. He tried to ram him into the wall one last –

BANG!

Everyone jumped at the sound. The cloud of rage that had wrapped around O'Bannon's head disintegrated. He looked around the corridor, breathing heavily.

Professor Snape stood a few feet away, a smoking wand raised in the air.

"Fighting in the corridors, O'Bannon?"

He said nothing. All he could do was breathe heavily.

"I think fifty points from Gryffindor is sufficient, along with three nights of detention."

O'Bannon just stared at him, still taking heavy breaths, physically and emotionally numb.

"Oh, and lest I forget, fifty points from you, Arnfelt, along with three nights of detention."

Shouts of disbelief rose from the Gryffindors in the corridor.

"But, Professor," said one of Arnfelt's friends. "Bernard was the one who was attacked."

"It takes two to fight. Oh, Weasley, Weasley and Jordan. Ten points each from you."

"What!" blurted one of the Weasleys.

"We were trying to break it up," said the other.

"Well you didn't try hard enough, did you?" Snape sneered at them before looking at O'Bannon. "And you can forget about breakfast, O'Bannon. I'm taking you to see Professor McGonagall. I'm sure she'll love to hear what a violent, disruptive exchange student she has in her House."

Snape jerked his head as a silent order to follow him down the corridor. O'Bannon obeyed, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Slowly, he grasped the fact that his attack on Arnfelt just cost Gryffindor 130 points. It also put him in detention for three nights. Detention? Him? The last time he got detention was his Third Year.

O'Bannon lowered his head as they approached McGonagall's office. Fighting. Detention. More than a hundred points deducted from Gryffindor. Could his life at Hogwarts get any worse?

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	8. Meanwhile Back at Salem

**CHAPTER 8: MEANWHILE BACK AT SALEM**

* * *

><p>"Merlin's beard, just when I thought you couldn't be any more stupid!" Rosa stomped behind Jared, following her cousin into his room.<p>

"Oh chill out, will you?" he snapped, chucking his book bag beside his bed. "It was just a joke."

"Artimus doesn't know that."

Jared groaned and rolled his eyes. "The guy's been hanging with us for almost six years, now. You'd think he'd know when I was joking."

"This wasn't a joke to Artimus. You know how much he struggles in Transfiguration. Did it ever occur to you how bad he must have felt getting a Poor grade on that test?"

"Well, yeah. Why do you think I ragged on him? To make him feel better."

Rosa closed her eyes tight. She loved Jared, but Merlin's beard he could be so dense.

She opened her eyes and did a halfway decent imitation of Jared's voice, "'Oh boy, dude. You really do suck at this class.'"

Jared chuckled.

"It's not funny! He's terrified at how his jackass of a father is going to react when he finds out about that grade."

"I told him it was a joke!" Jared threw out his arms. "For piss sake, me and Jimmy rag on each other like that all the time."

"Artimus is not Jimmy! You can't joke with him like you can with Jimmy. You know how sensitive he is."

"So maybe I just shouldn't talk to him until Jimmy gets back from England! Would that make you guys happy? Jeez!"

Jared dropped onto his bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, scowling.

Rosa was about to light into him again when she noticed her cousin's gaze aimed at the empty bed on the other side of the room. The bed where Jimmy slept. She also stared in that direction, noting the barren desk and the bare walls where his posters used to hang.

She frowned and looked back at Jared. "I miss Jimmy, too."

Jared turned to her. He stared at her in silence for several seconds before letting out a snort. "Crap. It's like . . . I don't know, like something's not right around here."

"I know." Rosa sat next to Jared and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Dude." He tried to shrug it off.

"I'm not a dude, you nimrod." She clamped her arm around Jared's shoulders. "Look, I'm sure there are plenty of other guys you can rip on, like most of the guys on the hockey team. But just watch yourself with Artimus, okay?"

Jared sighed. "Yeah, okay."

"And be sure to apologize to him."

"I will."

Rosa smiled. "You know, you're not as big an idiot as I thought." She hugged him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Dude, geddoff!" He tried to push her away.

"I told you I'm not a dude, you dumbass."

"You're right, you're not a dude. You're a pain in my ass."

"Only because I love you."

Jared stuck a finger in his mouth and mimicked throwing up.

Rosa smacked him on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go to dinner. I'm starving."

"What about Artimus?"

"He's probably down by the lake, like he usually is when he's super-depressed. We'll pick him up along the way. C'mon."

They headed out of the room, Rosa taking another look at Jimmy's empty bed. Her chest tightened with worry. She prayed things had gotten better for him at Hogwarts. She thought back to their very first night at Salem. Despite having the double-whammy of being new to school _and _the Wizarding World, Jimmy was chatting with other kids and making friends within minutes of setting foot in the Communal Hall. Why was it so tough for him to do the same at Hogwarts?

_It has to be the kids over there, 'cause it sure as hell can't be Jimmy._

They went down the wooden staircase that led to the foyer. To their left was the Blazenrowe Hall parlor, with several couches and chairs and tables. To their right were the double doors that led outside. The cousins headed for them when a female voice called out from behind. "Rosa. Jared."

They turned around and saw a short, athletic-looking girl with long brown hair walking toward them. Next to her, holding her hand, was a tall boy with close-cropped dark hair and tanned skin.

"Hey," Rosa greeted them. "What's up?"

Rana Rollingsworth and Darius Forten exchanged what seemed nervous looks. Both turned back to Rosa and Jared, with Rana speaking. "Um, we just wanted to find out. Did Jimmy and Penny break up?"

Rosa's face scrunched in bewilderment. She turned to Jared, who looked equally confused, then turned back to Rana. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Yeah," Jared added. "I think Jimmy would have told us if that happened."

Rana and Darius looked even more uncomfortable. "Oh crap," Darius muttered.

"What's going on?" Rosa asked.

Rana shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Um, well, we were walking past the Charms building, and, you know the big maple tree behind it?"

Both Rosa and Jared nodded.

"And, um, you know Zephyrus Klockner?"

"The Keeper for Ardenturo Hall's Quidditch Team?" Jared replied. "Yeah, we know him."

The veins in Darius' neck stuck out. Rana bit her lip before continuing. "Well, we were walking past there, and, um, we saw Penny and Zephyrus . . . well . . . They were making out."

The news hit Rosa like a Body-Bind Curse. She stood statue still, gaping at Rana, her mind trying to process what she'd just said.

"What?" Jared blurted. "Whoa, wait a sec. Penny making out with another guy? Are you sure?"

"Oh, trust us," Darius said. "We had a good view of it."

Rosa felt a tick form under her eye. She didn't want to believe this. Penny cheating on Jimmy? It couldn't be. Jimmy treated that girl like she was on a pedestal. She wouldn't . . . She couldn't . . .

She looked at Rana and Darius. She had known both of them for years. They were also friends with Jimmy. She couldn't imagine either of them lying about something like this.

_Penny Nichols . . . Zephyrus Klockner . . . While Jimmy's over in England? It can't . . ._

Rosa's mixture of Cuban and Puerto Rican blood boiled. _That hag. How could she?_

_How could she!_

She spun around and shoved open the double doors. They banged loudly off the walls as she stomped down the porch and across the lawn. A small part of her wanted to cry, thinking about how Jimmy would feel when he found out. The larger part of her only felt rage. Ten months Jimmy and Penny had been together. Ten months! And she does this to him?

She clenched her teeth as she spotted a large barn-like structure with red wooden siding. The sign above the door read PRISCILLA PRIMROSE COMMUNAL HALL. It was dinner time. Penny would likely be in there with the rest of the Salem student population.

"I don't like the way she's looking." Rosa heard Darius behind her. "Should we do something?"  
>Jared barked out a laugh. "Be my guest, if you wanna get hit by a bunch of hexes and curses. Trust me, man, when Rosa's like this, you better stay out of her way."<p>

_First smart thing you've said all day, Jared._

Rosa marched up to the door and pushed it open. She barely registered the tables with blue and silver cloths, the large rectangular windows, and the chandeliers lit by glowbugs. He also barely registered a chubby female ghost with an apron and her hair tied in a bun who stood in front of her.

"Good morning, Mi-"

Rosa walked right through the ghost of Priscilla Primrose, ignoring the wave of icy cold that swept through her body. Her eyes scanned the Communal Hall until she spotted Penny Nichols sitting with two other girls. Penny threw her head back as she laughed at something one of her friends said.

That laughter only fueled her anger.

She stormed over to her, ignoring friends who said, "Hi," to her.

"You tramp!"

Over a dozen heads swung toward Rosa. Her gaze, however, remained locked on Jimmy's girlfriend, who looked shocked.

That made her even angrier.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you, Penny Nichols. Don't you dare look shocked. How the hell could you?"

Rosa was vaguely aware that she had the attention of every student in the Communal Hall."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Penny tried to scoot to the edge of her seat.

"'What am I talking about?' You have the friggin' nerve to ask that? I'm talking about you and Zephyrus Klockner and the maple tree behind the Charms building! How could you do that? How could you do that to Jimmy when he's over in England, absolutely miserable?"

"I-I-I . . ."

"I want an answer from you, you harpy! Jimmy is an absolute sweetheart. He's totally in love with you! And you go behind his back to suck face with Zephyrus Klockner!"

Several gasps of surprise and "Whoas" rippled through the Communal Hall.

"I . . . I sent him a letter about me and Zephyrus," Penny said.

"When? Before or after you started shoving your tongue down his throat?"

"Look." Penny's eyes narrowed. "Jimmy's, like, three thousand miles from here. He won't be back until next summer. I'm supposed to wait that long for him?"

"Yes! Because he promised to wait for you!"

"And who's to say he won't chase some tramp of a witch around Hogwarts while he's there?"

"Because he loves you! Because when Jimmy makes a promise, he keeps it. Unlike you."

"You say Jimmy loves me?" Anger lines etched into Penny's face. "Well if he loves me so much, why did he choose England over me?"

"Going to Hogwarts was a big opportunity for him. You even helped him study so he could have high enough marks to go over there."

"Well I didn't expect him to actually win the stupid competition!"

Rosa balled her fists so tight they shook. "What, you're saying Jimmy's stupid?"

"Well if he'd rather spend a year living in some castle in England instead of spending it here with his girlfriend, then maybe he is." Penny snorted. "Jimmy can have Hogwarts. Me, I'd rather have a guy who's actually here at Salem who I can kiss whenever I want!"

"Merlin's beard, are you really that shallow? You got Jimmy's letter from Hogwarts. You know how miserable he is over there. You're going to do this to him now?"

"Well maybe that's what he deserves for choosing a stupid school in England over me!"

Rage exploded inside Rosa. She yanked out her wand and slashed the air with it. Six plates full of food shot off the table and fell on Penny. She screamed and jumped to her feet, covered in gravy and sauces and creams and all manner of food.

"You stupid cow!" Penny cried out. "You're crazy!"

Rosa aimed her wand at Penny's face. "I oughta -"

"Miss Infante!"

She whipped her head to the left. A squat witch with a compact, wrinkled face and dark gray hair stood further down the aisle, glaring at Rosa.

"My office. Now!" ordered Headmistress Athena Esmeralda.

Rosa's nostrils flared. She took one last, blistering look at Penny. A white, brown and green substance covered her face and hair. Her jaw quivered, panic in her eyes.

Rosa snapped down her wand arm and followed the Headmistress out of the very quiet Communal Hall. Jared gave her a supportive smile before she left.

Esmeralda didn't say a word as she stalked across the grounds, Rosa keeping up with her. She was in big trouble, no doubt about it. She knew she should be worried about it. But instead of worrying about herself, Rosa was more worried about Jimmy. Had that harpy's letter reached him already? How would he deal with it on top of all his other problems at Hogwarts?

_This is gonna kill him._

Rosa felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. As with Jared, Jimmy was like a brother to her. She couldn't stand the thought of the pain he'd go through when he got Penny's letter.

She scowled, mentally beating herself up. _I knew there was something not right about that girl. _While Penny had treated her civilly when she'd been with Jimmy, the girl never really warmed up to her. Rosa had wondered if it could be a jealousy thing.

_I told her I don't know how many times Jimmy is like part of my family. _

Not even that. Rosa just had this . . . feeling about Penny. A few times she thought about telling Jimmy her concerns, but kept silent. He wouldn't have believed her anyone. He was crazy in love with Penny.

_I should've said something. Dammit! Jimmy, I'm so sorry._

When they reached Headmistress Esmeralda's office, Rosa didn't even wait for the old witch to sit before she said, "Whatever kind of punishment you're going to give me, it's totally worth it."

Esmeralda's head snapped up. Her face tightened in anger. "You may want to rethink that statement. Now sit."

Rosa folded her arms and remained standing.

"I said sit!"

Intense heat filled Rosa's cheeks as she plopped into the high-back chair in front of Headmistress Esmeralda's desk.

"This behavior is uncharacteristic of you, Rosa. Not that there is any excuse for your actions, but I would like to know what reason you had for dumping several plates of food on Penny Nichols."

"How about the fact that skank's cheating on Jimmy!"

An expression of shock flashed across Esmeralda's face. "Are you sure about that?"

"Rana Rollingsworth and Darius Forten saw them. I know they wouldn't make that up. She's making out with Zephyrus Klockner while Jimmy's over in England."

Esmeralda's shoulders sagged. "That is distressing to hear. I know Jimmy and Penny have been together a long time. I certainly can't condone her behavior."

A smiled formed on Rosa's face. Was Headmistress Esmeralda going to take her side?

"But, I also can't condone your behavior, Rosa."

"Well she deserved it. That and more."

"And is that how you plan to solve all your problems in the future? With violence?"

"Probably, since I'm going to be an auror."

"Even aurors know which situations call for drastic measures and which ones don't. And this situation, as emotional as it was, was not one for drastic measures."

"So what am I supposed to do? Sit back and do nothing while that hag stabs Jimmy in the back and smiles about it?"

"There are other ways to handle something like this besides dumping food all over someone."

"Well that way works best for me."

Headmistress Esmeralda's eyes narrowed. "Rosa, I am giving you some latitude here, but you are more than trying my patience, so before you say another word, you had best adjust your attitude."

Rosa answered her with a glare. She then drew a slow breath. "Jimmy's having a miserable time at Hogwarts. He's not making any friends. He says they've got this weird point system for his House and he's accidentally cost them a bunch of points and all the kids there hate him."

Esmeralda leaned back in her seat. "I wasn't aware of this. Then again, I'm not due to receive Professor McGonagall's first evaluation of Jimmy until the end of the month."

"Well what can we do?"

"Do? I don't see what we can do from here."

"Well there's gotta be something." Rosa nearly came out of her chair. "Talk to this McGonagall person. Get her to help him."

"How? By having her order the students in her House to like Jimmy?"

"But he hates it there."

"Jimmy wanted to be at Hogwarts. I am sorry to hear things are not going well, but he will be there for the entire year. He will just have to make the best of it."

Rosa blinked in astonishment. "That's it?"

"I don't see that he has much choice."

She stared at Esmeralda, mouth agape. She couldn't believe her ears. She'd always liked the Headmistress, always found her accessible, always felt she cared about the students at Salem. How could she be so insensitive?

Rosa grinded her teeth as Esmeralda gave out her punishment. A week's detention, a one-game suspension from the Blazenrowe Hall hockey team, and the worst one of all, a public apology to Penny Nichols.

"Apologize to that hag? In front of the whole school? I'd rather date a troll."

"Nonetheless, you will do it. You can go back to hating her afterwards. I'm not naïve enough to believe you two will ever be friends again, but you will apologize."

Rosa pressed her lips together, holding back the scream of rage she wanted to release.

"That's all. You can leave."

_Good. _Rosa didn't want to look at this crone's face for another minute. She slammed her palms on the armrests, shot to her feet and stomped toward the door.

"Rosa."

She spun around, face twisted in fury. What the hell did she want now?

Headmistress Esmeralda looked up at her. "I know you care a lot about Jimmy, and I'm not unsympathetic to his plight."

Rosa's eyes widened. Her fury dissolved. "Then you'll help him."

"As I said, I'm not sure how much we can help him when he's more than three thousand miles away. Ultimately, he may have to help himself."

Rosa's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"Do you know one of the reasons why I picked Jimmy for our exchange student program? It's because he is one of the most resilient students I have ever know. Whenever he is presented with a challenge, he will rise to meet it, as demonstrated by all the hard work he put into winning the exchange student competition. Quite frankly, I must admit, he surprised me when he got an Exceeds Expectations for his final Potions grade."

Rosa couldn't help but smile at that.

"I have even seen that determination when he plays hockey. He has never been the biggest player on the rink, but he has never backed down from any opponent, no matter their size. And I've heard about his locker room speeches. Blazenrowe could be behind by six goals, and Jimmy will tell the team to never give up, to keep playing hard no matter what, that any obstacle, no matter how great, can be overcome. Perhaps what we need to do is remind Jimmy of his own words."

"You're going to write him all that?" asked Rosa.

"No, not me. I think it would mean more if it came from one of his closest friends."

"I guess that would be me."

Headmistress Esmeralda smiled. "Correct. So, have yourself some dinner, then go back to your dorm and write Jimmy a letter, telling him exactly what I told you." She paused, her thin eyebrows scrunched together. "On second thought, don't go back to the Communal Hall. Right now I don't want you or Penny Nichols anywhere near one another. I'll have Jared bring your dinner to your room."

"Thank you, Headmistress."

"Of course."

Rosa turned toward the door. Her anger had become a thing of the past. She started to believe things would be all right for Jimmy at Hogwarts.

"Oh, Rosa."

"Yes, Headmistress?" she turned back to her.

"Just because we had this little moment of understanding does not mean I have changed my mind about your punishment. Your first detention is tomorrow night at six-thirty, and I want your apology to Penny written and turned into me for review by Friday noon."

Rosa sighed. "Yes, Headmistress."

Despite that, she still smiled as she left the office.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	9. The Way Out Is The Way In

**CHAPTER 9: THE WAY OUT IS THE WAY IN**

* * *

><p><em>This is the worst mistake I've ever made.<em>

The thought hung in O'Bannon's mind as he stood at the sink in the Potions classroom, washing out vials of dulgrop root extract. Apparently, the stuff had not been stored properly over the summer, and due to the high temperatures it turned from a clear green liquid into a soupy brown substance.

And Merlin's beard, the stench! It was like a skunk fell into a port-a-potty, then bathed in raw sewage. How he managed not to throw up was a miracle.

Snape, no surprise, took perverse pleasure in this. Every few minutes, the greasy-haired buttwipe would stop grading papers and make some stupid comment, like, "Is the smell too unpleasant for you, O'Bannon? Maybe that will give you pause next time you think about fighting in the corridors. Then again, you are a Gryffindor, and likely too thick to learn from your mistakes."

It took every ounce of effort for him not to tell Snape to go piss up a rope. He closed his eyes, imagining himself as one of the Hanson Brothers from the movie _Slapshot, _complete with long hair and thick black glasses. Then he pictured Snape as an opposing hockey player. A smile crossed his lips as he visualized his Hanson alter ego pummeling Snape, knocking out his teeth, blackening both his eyes, ramming him into the boards and leaving him a broken, bloodied, battered mess.

The smile, and the image, vanished when he picked up another vial of dulgrop root extract. My God, that stench! He clenched his teeth to keep from throwing up.

Snape released him around 9:30, with the promise of "more unpleasant tasks" for his detention tomorrow. O'Bannon trudged through the corridors, this time keeping an eye out for that friggin' poltergeist Peeves.

_That little bastard ain't gonna get me again._

Images of the Salem Witches Institute formed in his mind. It would be late afternoon back there. Had he still been there, he'd likely be in the middle of hockey practice. Then he'd go to dinner and talk with his friends. None of his conversations would have included trying to ram that asshole Arnfelt through a brick wall, or having his ass reamed out by McGonagall, who called him "an embarrassment to the Salem Witches Institute."

And he certainly wouldn't be talking about serving the most unpleasant detention in the world with that jagoff of jagoffs Snape.

Several students were in the Gryffindor common room when he entered. They all looked his way for a second, stiffened, and did everything they could to avoid eye contact with him. O'Bannon had been getting that reaction all day long. He sensed a much different vibe from the Gryffindors. They no longer ignored him out of anger. They now ignored him out of fear.

_Why not? After what happened between me and Arnfelt they probably think I'm some American psycho._

He went upstairs to his room. Eddleton was at his desk. He looked up at him, then quickly went back to his book.

O'Bannon ignored him as he headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He stayed under the warm water for a good twenty minutes, hoping it would be enough to rid himself of every trace of the horrific stench of dulgrop root extract. When he returned to his room, he peeled the covers back from his bed. He still had Charms homework to finish, but the desire to go to sleep and end one of his worst days at Hogwarts proved stronger.

He got into bed, looking at his pictures of Penny, Jared, Rosa and Artimus on his nightstand.

_I could really use you guys here right now._

O'Bannon kissed his fingers and placed them gently on Penny's photo.

_Love you, babe._

**XXXXX**

The next morning O'Bannon sat at the end of the Gryffindor table, the nearest person a good twenty feet from him. Not that he cared any more. If the other students thought he would suddenly stop eating and start throwing curses all over the Great Hall, let them. Better that than hearing their complaints about how many stupid points he'd cost their House.

He took another bite of his sausage as he read a scathing article in _The Daily Prophet _on the Ministry of Magic's ability to run the Tri-Wizard Tournament without incident, unlike at the Quidditch World Cup.

_Man, this Rita Skeeter's kinda harsh._

A flapping sound caught O'Bannon's attention. He looked up and saw a gray owl swoop down and drop an envelope in front of him. After giving the bird some food and water, he picked up the envelope and smiled.

Another letter from Penny.

He ripped it open and pulled out the folded parchment.

_Jimmy,_

_We have been together for ten months now. During that time, I always thought you were the best boyfriend in the world. But now you're going to be at Hogwarts for the entire year, instead of being here at Salem with me. I can't wait all that time for you. I've met someone else, someone actually here at Salem, and I'm moving on with my life. So I am breaking up with you._

An invisible fist punched him in the gut. He had to force himself to blink. This couldn't be right.

He read the letter again, and again, and again. The words didn't change.

He felt his soul sucked into a black hole. The sounds of students talking and silverware clanking vanished. The entire world stood still.

Penny was breaking up with him?

O'Bannon couldn't breathe. His hands trembled as he continued to stare at the letter. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't! And what the hell was this about meeting someone else? All this time he'd been thinking about her, looking at her photograph, thinking about her when things got bad. All this time she'd been with some other guy?

But they had promised to wait for each other. He loved her. She loved him.

Or did she?

His jaw quivered. His eyes narrowed. Hot, angry breaths hissed out his nose.

_She broke up with me. She cheated on me._

_Penny cheated on me!_

O'Bannon banged a fist on the table. His goblet of pumpkin juice toppled over and the owl jumped and hooted in fright. He shot out of his seat and stormed out of the Great Hall.

_This can't be happening! _He pressed a hand against the side of his skull. Why the hell could nothing go right in his life any more?

Friggin' Hogwarts! First everyone at this damn school makes his life miserable, now being here cost him his girlfriend.

He looked at the letter, crumpled it up and flung it to the ground. But it wasn't enough. He yanked out his wand. _"Inflammo!"_

A flash of fire consumed the crumpled piece of parchment, turning it to ash.

It still didn't make him feel better.

"Mister O'Bannon."

He closed his eyes, quaking with anger. _Not now._

He turned around and saw Professor McGonagall standing nearby, arms folded across her chest.

"Magic is not permitted in the corridors. I'm afraid that's five points from Gryffindor."

"Aw, why don't you make it twenty?"

She did, and gave him another night's detention before ordering him to follow her.

For the second time in as many days, he sat in McGonagall's office. The old witch reamed him out again, not that he listened to much she said. His mind still reeled from what Penny had written. His girlfriend broke up with him. He hadn't even been here a month and Penny had left him for another guy. What the hell!

"Ever since you have been at Hogwarts," McGonagall said, "your proclivity for breaking the rules and causing trouble have reached levels I have not seen since the days of James Potter and Sirius Black, and trust me, that is saying something."

O'Bannon had no idea who those guys were, nor did he really care.

"Believe me," McGonagall continued, "all of the problems you have caused me and everyone else at Hogwarts will go into my first evaluation I send to your headmistress." She shook his head. "I have known Athena Esmeralda for many years and always thought her to be a good judge of character. Unfortunately, it appears she made an error in judgment believing that you would be an exemplary representative of the Salem Witches Institute."

O'Bannon shrugged. Hogwarts, the Salem Witches Institute, a bad evaluation, none of that mattered.

All he could think about was Penny breaking up with him.

_Breaking up with me? How about betraying me!_

"This is your last warning, Mister O'Bannon." McGonagall leaned forward, her eyes narrowed at him. "Any more breaches of discipline such as what happened between you and Mister Arnfelt, and I will have no choice but to reconsider the rest of your stay at Hogwarts."

That caught his attention. He met McGonagall's stare. "You mean you might send me back to Salem?"

"That is exactly what I mean. Studying at Hogwarts is a privilege, not a right. And it is a privilege you have greatly abused. So unless you want your time here at Hogwarts to be short, I suggest you improve your behavior."

O'Bannon said nothing. Had he not been so shellshocked over Penny's break-up letter, he would have smiled. Because McGonagall had, unknowingly, given him the opportunity he'd wanted all along.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon spent the next few days trying to come up with something so outrageous McGonagall would have no choice but to ship him back to the US. It was a lot harder than he expected. He'd never been a troublemaker. Plus, every time he tried to come up with an idea, Penny would intrude on his thoughts. Stuffing every photograph he had of her into the bottom of his trunk didn't help him forget her. He'd picture her beautiful face, kisses they shared, how happy he felt around her. Then the full force of her betrayal would hit him. Anger and misery vied for control of his soul. Times like that, he wondered if he even wanted to go back to Salem and be at the same school as Penny.

_At least at Salem, you'd have friends you could talk to about this._

That motivated him to keep planning that one final act that would get him thrown out of Hogwarts.

Mooning McGonagall in the middle of Transfiguration class would do it. Or maybe pissing in his cauldron and dumping it on Snape's head. Or just firing a Reductor Curse at the staff table during dinner.

Trouble was, he could never bring himself to do any of that. Juvenile delinquents did stuff like that. He was far from a juvenile delinquent.

A fight would do it. A really major one. _I mean, go medieval on someone's ass._ That he could do, no problem.

One morning he came down the stairs and checked around the common room. He spotted the Weasley twins toward the back of the room, heads down, a conspiratorial air about them. Other students chatted in little groups.

"You know that essay was due today. How could you put it off until this morning?"

O'Bannon spotted Hermione Granger standing over Ron Weasley, who sat in a chair writing on a piece of parchment.

"Harry and I had a good chess match going," the redhead responded. "I didn't want to stop it."

An appalled look came over Hermione's face. She absolutely went off on Ron, calling him "irresponsible" and "lazy" and all sorts of other disparaging adjectives. Ron fired back, telling her to leave him alone and "you're not my mother."

The two went back and forth, their voices growing louder by the second.

Jimmy grinned. This could be it. He could act like their arguing drove him nuts, to the point he had to launch a barrage of curses and hexes at them.

_Good-bye Hogwarts, hello Salem._

His hand hovered over the pocket where he kept his wand.

_C'mon, this is your chance. Do it._

His wand remained in his pocket.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath. Frowning, he clomped down the steps and headed out of the common room, leaving Ron and Hermione to continue their argument.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit," he hissed as he stalked through the corridors. Those two should be spinning in mid-air like tops with algae spurting from their ears and noses. That would have punched his ticket out of this friggin' hellhole. What held him back?

O'Bannon knew the answer to that. He couldn't attack someone unprovoked. Bullies did that. He'd had enough experiences with bullies at both his old Muggle elementary school and at Salem to know one thing.

He hated them, and no way in hell would he ever become like them.

_So now I have to wait until someone gives me an excuse before I kick their ass._

Given the way everyone at this school avoided him, he doubted that would happen anytime soon.

A few more days went by. He wrote Rosa, Jared and Artimus about what Penny did, and all the other crap he'd gone through at Hogwarts. He also wrote to his parents about all this. That would no doubt make them worry, but right now he needed to get all this off his chest to someone. Who better than them?

He tried to think of ways to provoke someone into fighting him. Maybe he could go down to the dungeons where the Slytherins lived and wait there. Knowing how much they hated Gryffindor, it wouldn't take long for one of them to draw a wand on him.

_And what if you run into a whole group of them?_

He'd already spent a weekend in the Hospital Wing because of one hex. He didn't feel like spending an entire week there because of multiple hexes and curses.

He tried to come up with something else, all the while still feeling the sting of Penny breaking up with him.

_Ten months I wasted on her. Backstabbing harpy._

On one of the last days of September, he walked into History of Magic class and went to his usual table. Quincy Questor tensed when he saw him, moved as far down the table as he could, then went back to reading his book.

O'Bannon sat down. A minute later Professor Binns floated through the blackboard and rambled on about another goblin revolt – _How many of those things has this country had?_

He ignored Binns. Whatever the ghost said, he'd just read about it in his textbook later. Instead, O'Bannon dug into his bookbag and pulled out his Transfiguration homework. He'd quickly learned that History of Magic was a great time to catch up on his homework. Binns paid almost no attention to what the students did during his class. Hell, Binns probably wouldn't notice a hundred dragons attacking Hogwarts.

_There's a nice thought._

O'Bannon opened his Transfiguration book to a table full of numbers and the names of objects. His assignment had been to calculate the time one object could remain transfigured as another. First up, dinner plate into a cauldron. Well, a cauldron wasn't that much bigger than a plate. Going by the figures in the table, the transfiguration could last up to seven hours.

Did his butt feel warm?

He shook it off, concentrating on the next problem. A ball of yarn into a rubber tree. There you had a much bigger size difference. Plus a plant was a living thing, something more complex than an inanimate object.

He grimaced, scratching his butt.

_Okay, let's check the table. Inanimate object into a living object. Damn!_

He scratched his butt again. It felt like something kept stinging it.

_Living object, many times larger than the original transfigured object . . . Oh for the love of God!_

He clenched his teeth, putting down his quill and using both hands to scratch his butt. But it didn't help. It felt like someone dumped an entire jar of fire ants down his pants.

O'Bannon groaned and scratched and thrashed about in his seat.

"Knock it off!" Quincy hissed. "I'm trying to listen."

O'Bannon just groaned, and scratched, and scratched, and scratched. Merlin's friggin' long-ass snowy white beard, his butt was on fire!

He bolted out of the chair and raced for the door. Several of his classmates watched him go. Binns didn't notice.

He shoved open the door, took a few steps into the corridor, and backed up against the stone wall. He rubbed his butt up and down it.

"Oh God," he said through clenched teeth. "Oh my God. Aaaarrgh! Aaaarrgh! Aaaarrgh!"

This went on for ten minutes until his rear-end went from blazing hot to just prickly. O'Bannon let out huge breaths of relief.

"Holy crap. What the hell was that all about?"

The door to the History of Magic classroom swung open. O'Bannon turned and saw Fred and George Weasley staring at him, both wearing huge grins.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered there, mate?"

"Must have 'accidentally' planted his bottom on a Sit-And-Scratch Chair, Fred."

"I believe you're right, George. Now who would have put such a thing in History of Magic class?"

"Yes, who could have done such a thing, Fred?"

"No idea, George, but we should get to the 'bottom' of it."

Both twins snickered.

O'Bannon just stared at them, letting out a slow, angry breath.

"By the way, you might need this." Fred reached into his robes and pulled out a vile of some white, paste-like substance. He tossed it to O'Bannon, who caught it.

"Itch-Be-Gone Salve. Should take the sting out of it."

"Best apply it and get back into class before Binns' misses you," George said.

"Oh come now, George. Remember that time during Third Year when we skipped History of Magic for two straight months. Binns never realized we were gone."

"That's true, Fred. Come to think of it, he probably still doesn't even know our names."

They both waved and smiled at O'Bannon. "Ta-ta."

The twins went back inside the classroom.

O'Bannon glared at the now closed door, then back at the Itch-Be-Gone Salve. Like his life wasn't bad enough, these two assholes had to go and put this Sit-And-Scratch chair where he usually sat. Have a laugh at his expense. Where the hell did they . . .

He held his breath. A wicked smile formed on his lips.

_Congratulations, buttwads. You just provoked me._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_The title of this chapter is a little nod to one of my favorite bands. That line appears in the Rush song "Secret Touch" from the Vapor Trails CD._


	10. Ice Time

**CHAPTER 10: ICE TIME**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon just couldn't do it.<p>

He had plenty of opportunities to hex Fred and George Weasley into the next century. In class, in the corridors, in the Great Hall, in the common room. But every time he just couldn't bring himself to draw his wand.

_What the hell's wrong with me?_ Was he being too nice for his own good?

Was he a wussy?

He sat at his desk in his dorm room, trying to finish his essay on Graphorns for Care of Magical Creatures class. But coming up with all the ways the horned, humpbacked creatures could harm wizards, and why trolls would want to ride on them, proved difficult. Too many thoughts jumbled together in his brain. Getting back at the Weasley twins. Penny breaking up with him. Wanting to go back to Salem.

O'Bannon checked his watch. At this time his friends back at Salem would be just about wrapping up their morning classes. He also figured it would be another week or two before the sports seasons began there. Quidditch, Quadpot and hockey.

He sighed. God, he was going to miss playing hockey this year, more than he ever imagined.

His eyes wandered over to his hockey stick, which leaned against the wall next to his bed. It had been there since he first arrived at Hogwarts. O'Bannon leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. It had been almost a month and he hadn't even touched it. What the hell was wrong with him?

Tingles raced up and down his body. He kept staring at his stick, imagining himself streaking across the ice, rearing back and smacking the puck toward the neck.

The yearning grew inside him. He wanted to be out on the ice. Needed to be on the ice.

_Then why not?_

Forgetting all about his Graphorn essay, he got up and grabbed his stick, flexing his hands around. It felt so good to hold it again.

He went into his trunk and pulled out his skates and a bag of pucks. Then he paused. _If you're gonna do this, do it right._

O'Bannon dug through his trunk until he found his replica Boston Bruins jersey and put it on. He then donned a Bruins cap, tied his skates together and draped them over his stick, which he rested on his shoulder. He took a couple deep breaths, looking over his jersey, gripping his stick tight. This felt so right.

He headed down the steps, ignoring whatever stares he got from the Gryffindors in the common room. Minutes later he was outside, at the banks of a small pond halfway between the castle and the lake. Taking out his wand, he cast a Freezing Spell, turning the pond into a sheet of ice. His heartbeat picked up. Anticipation surged through his veins as he laced up his skates. When he stepped on the ice, he skated as fast as he could from one end of the pond to the other. The rush exhilarated him. All his problems at Hogwarts vanished as he sped around the pond. Images of games with the Blazenrowe hockey team played in his mind. Then his imagination kicked into high gear. He saw himself in a real Boston Bruins uniform, with team legends Bobby Orr and Phil Esposito around him. Twenty-thousand screaming fans packed Boston Garden as they skated down the ice.

"_Orr cross-ice to Esposito. Esposito back to Orr. Orr over to O'Bannon, down the middle. O'Bannon one-timer . . . SCOOOOOORES!"_

He smiled wide. Wizard or not, he'd give anything to suit up for the Boston Bruins, just once.

Putting the pipe dream out of his mind, O'Bannon skated over to the bank, grabbed his bag of pucks and dumped them on the ice. He then took the bag and used his wand to transfigure it into a hockey net. After lining up the pucks, he drew back his stick and whacked the first little black disc. A burst of sheer joy went through him as the crack of wood on vulcanized rubber filled his ears. The puck sailed into the net.

He smiled, stared at the second puck and raised his stick.

_Thwack!_

Another goal, left corner.

He went down the line, most of his shots finding their mark. After firing the last puck past the net, O'Bannon used a Summoning Charm to bring back all his pucks. He caught a glimpse of the castle. Some of his anger at everything that had gone on over the past month leaked through his joy of being on the ice.

That was okay. He could use that.

He lined up the pucks again. He stared at the first one, and imagined it as a face. The face of that greasy-haired jagoff Professor Snape.

_THWACK!_

The puck clanged off the crossbar.

The next puck had McGonagall's face on it. He smacked the hell out of it.

Goal.

He continued down the line, picturing other faces on the pucks. Bernard Arnfelt. Simon Hurst. Draco Malfoy. Fred Weasley. George Weasley.

Even Penny Nichols.

This time more pucks missed the net than went in. He didn't care. It just felt good to take out his frustrations on something.

"_Accio Pucks!"_ The pucks flew through the air and landed at O'Bannon's feet. He lined them up again and raised his stick when he heard a voice coming from the bank.

"Here, what's this then?"

O'Bannon turned toward the voice to find Fred and George Weasley standing near the pond. He shut his eyes tight, face twisted in anger. _Can't I get one friggin' moment of peace at this damn school._

One of the twins tilted his head. "Whacking little black objects that look like Cauldron Cakes with a stick? These Americans sure find interesting ways to amuse themselves."

O'Bannon scowled and struck one of the pucks as hard as he could. He missed the net by ten feet. "What the hell do you two want?"

Shocked expressions came over the faces of the twins. They turned to each other.

"Rather rude, wouldn't you say, Fred?"

"I agree, George. And here we went through all the trouble to brighten his day by giving him a new chair in History of Magic."

"A Sit-And-Scratch Chair." O'Bannon's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, real funny. You know what'd be even funnier? Me taking these pucks and cramming them up your asses!"

"Ouch! Hostile."

"Violent even."

"Perhaps the Sorting Hat should have put him in Slytherin."

"Now, George, don't insult the poor Yank like that."

O'Bannon clenched his teeth and felt his hand move toward his wand. Anger built and built as he stared at the smiling, laughing twins.

_I'd call this provocation._

His hand hovered just above his pocket, and stayed there.

_C'mon, O'Bannon. Just take out your wand, hex the hell out of 'em, and you get a one-way ticket back to Salem._

His hand would not obey his brain.

_Dammit, do it! Get yourself the hell out of here!_

But the more he stared at the twins, the more he took note of their smiles, their tone of voice. Not malicious, but more light-hearted, like when he and Jared ripped on one another back at Salem.

His shoulders sagged. His hand fell to his side. He just couldn't bring himself to attack them.

That's when the twins took out their wands.

O'Bannon tensed and went for his wand.

He stopped when Fred and George pointed their wands at their shoes and said, _"Nullus Lapsus."_

They pocketed their wands and walked across the ice as easily as walking across the lawn.

Again O'Bannon tensed as the twins approached him. What the hell could they be up to?

"Don't be so sore about the Sit-And-Scratch Chair," said one of the Weasleys, Fred he thought. "It was just our way of breaking the ice. Besides, you've been having a rough go of it here."

"So nice of you to notice."

The twins looked to one another, then back at O'Bannon.

"Well, we probably should have done it sooner," said George, "but we've been rather busy preparing for the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

O'Bannon's brow furrowed. "I thought you weren't of age. How can you enter the tournament?"

"Well that's what we're trying to figure out, Jimmy Boy," Fred told him.

He raised an eyebrow. _Jimmy Boy?_ He wasn't sure how he felt about that nickname.

"Don't worry about it," George said. "We'll find a way to get ourselves entered in that tournament. We can even try to get you entered, if you want."

"Ha!" O'Bannon barked. "Yeah, right. Like anyone here would want me representing Hogwarts."

"Ah, right," said Fred. "You aren't exactly the most popular Gryffindor, are you?"

"But you're in luck." George beamed. "Because we can fix that."

"And why do you care?"

"Because we feel bad for you," said Fred. "And because you seem like a decent enough chap."

"I thought everyone in Gryffindor thought I was a psycho, especially after what I did to Arnfelt."

"Oh, Arnfelt's a wanker." George gave O'Bannon's comment a dismissive wave. "He's just hacked off because he doesn't have a quarter of the skill his father does. Makes him rather unpleasant to be around."

"We really can't blame you for wanting to smash him through a wall," said Fred. "There's a fair share of Gryffindors who'd like to do the same."

"Maybe," O'Bannon responded. "But what about all this crap between you and Slytherin House?"

"Oh that. Well, our House and their House basically hate one another."

"Yeah." George nodded. "Making friends with a Slytherin, not the best thing to do."

"Though Hadar Gilbourne isn't the worst of the bunch," said Fred. "I think he just goes along with the rest of the snakes because his dad works for Malfoy's dad. Hadar probably feels he hacks off Malfoy and his dad's out of work."

A frown tugged at O'Bannon's mouth. He started to feel bad for Hadar. Still, how could anyone live by letting someone else have so much power over them?

"Just a few misunderstandings," Fred continued. "Perfectly understandable, you being a new student here. Nothing that can't be smoothed over, if you'll let us."

Fred stuck out his hand. "What'd you say, Jimmy Boy?"

O'Bannon just stared at Fred's hand. The debate raged in his mind. Should he accept Fred's offer? He was looking to get out of this school, not make friends. And his previous attempts at making friends with Hadar and Hermione proved disastrous.

Still, something about Fred and George struck him as sincere.

_What do you have to lose, O'Bannon?_

He took Fred's hand and shook it, then did the same with George.

"There," George smiled. "Now that we're all friends, maybe you can tell us what it is you're doing."

"It's called hockey."

"_Hoe-key?" _George mangled the word.

"Hockey. It's a Muggle game invented during the Nineteenth Century."

"And all you do is stand there and smack those little discs into a net?" asked George.

"Well, no. I mean, you play with five skaters to a side, and a goalie in the net. You gotta skate up and down the ice, pass the puck and try to get it past the goalie."

"Hm!" An impressed look came over Fred's face. "It sounds a bit like Quidditch, only on ice instead of in the air."

"Actually, it is. The center and the wingers are like Chasers, where it's their job to score. The defensemen are kinda like Beaters. They try to break-up any offensive opportunities for the other team. Then the goalie's just like the Keeper."

"Any special discs . . ."

"Pucks," O'Bannon corrected George.

"Any special pucks in this game? Like Bludgers or Golden Snitches?"

"Nope. All you've got is one puck, and you just get it into the net as many times as you can."

"Sounds like an interesting game," Fred said. "You are Muggle-born, right?"

"Yup."

"You played on hockey teams before you found out you were a wizard?"

"All the time."

"You miss playing?"

"Actually, I still play."

"What, during summer holiday," asked George.

"Actually, Salem has its own hockey league."

"No way!" Fred looked shocked. "They play a Muggle game at your school?"

"How did they manage that?" George wondered.

"A couple Muggle-borns put it together back in the 1950s. Back then, Salem had a pretty progressive Headmaster who thought having a Muggle game at the school would help promote better understanding between Wizards and Muggles. Like you said, hockey's the closest game Muggles have to Quidditch, so a lot of witches and wizards at the school really enjoy it."

"Cool." Fred smiled. "Think you can show us how to play?"

"Yeah," George jumped in. "Our dad is crazy about Muggles and Muggle stuff. Even works for the Ministry's Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

"I can only imagine how he'll react when he hears we played a Muggle game."

"Um, sure." The whole scene felt surreal for O'Bannon. Up until a few minutes ago, he was trying to convince himself to hex these two. Now he was about to show them how to play hockey.

Actually, even more surreal, someone at this school actually wanted to be his friend.

First he used his wand to cut down some branches from a nearby tree and transfigure them into hockey sticks. He then showed Fred and George the proper way to hold a stick, and the proper form to shoot the puck.

Both twins whacked the hell out of the pucks. Each one put a few pucks into the net. The rest went flying around and above the net. More than once their blades caught the ice before the puck, sending the little disc bouncing across the ice. A couple of those shots went in the net. O'Bannon knew that wouldn't have happened in an actual game with a goalie in net.

"Not bad for a couple first timers." O'Bannon nodded, impressed.

"Well we do like hitting things," George told him.

"Absolutely. We're Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"Not that we're having Quidditch this year."

"First no Quidditch, then Dumbledore says we're too young to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament." Fred scowled. "It's like he's deliberately trying to make this year miserable for us."

"We may have to do this hockey thing more often," said George. "Just to give us something sporty to do."

O'Bannon's eyes widened. My God, did they really enjoy whacking pucks that much?

A smile spread across his face. It seemed hard to believe, but finally, he had actually met some decent people at this school.

**XXXXX**

The three of them spent the next half-hour shooting pucks before they called it quits and headed to the castle for dinner. They walked to the Great Hall together, O'Bannon noticing some of the Gryffindors giving them curious looks as they entered.

"All right, Jimmy Boy." Fred slapped him on the back. "Time to start making some more friends around here besides us."

"Not that we're not charming company," added George.

"But you don't want to spend all your time around us."

"We'd start to drive you barmy."

"Then you'll want to kill us."

"And that wouldn't make for a very pleasant day, now would it?"

O'Bannon couldn't help but chuckle. And he thought Jared had a sense of humor that had no off-switch. He also couldn't get over the weird twin way they talked, like each of them took turns on the same sentence.

_How do they do that?_

"C'mon, then," Fred said.

O'Bannon followed him and George along the Gryffindor table. Nervousness bubbled inside him, wondering if the twins could smooth everything over between him and the other Gryffindors. He figured it would take a lot more than some jokes and smiles to accomplish that.

"How goes it, Lee?" George said to the black boy with dreadlocks. "I believe you know our resident Yank. Don't worry. You don't have to pry him off anyone this time."

"Not that you could do it before." Fred shot Lee a wicked grin.

"Come off it." Lee looked to O'Bannon. "Bloody hell, do you have a supply of Strength Enhancement Elixir?"

"No, I just do a lot of lifting."

"Well, do me a favor. Don't get into any more fights when I'm around." Lee lowered his voice and leaned closer to him. "I don't want to look like a wimp in front of the ladies, you know?"

O'Bannon smiled. "Deal, man."

The two shook hands. His smile grew wider. Things were starting to look up.

"What's he doing here?"

He turned and saw Angelina Johnson sitting across the table from him. Two other girls flanked her. Alicia Spinnet to her left, and the brown-haired girl he first met at King's Cross. Katie Bell was her name.

"Oh, come now, Ang," Fred said. "Don't be so hard on the poor boy."

"Do you know how many points he's cost Gryffindor?" she fired back.

"Look at all the points we cost Gryffindor." George glanced over at his twin. "But you still love us."

"Yeah, cut him a break," Fred said. "He's just made some mistakes that any new kid here would make."

"And it's not like we've been very welcoming to him, either," George added.

Angelina folded her arms and aimed a harsh gaze at him. O'Bannon just snorted.

_Nobody said this would be easy. _He also had to assume there would be some Gryffindors who wouldn't forgive him no matter what. It seemed Angelina Johnson would be one of them.

"I think Fred and George are right," Katie spoke up.

Angelina swung her head toward her. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. I remember running into him at King's Cross. He was actually very polite, let me go onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters before him. Just like a gentleman."

That sent a shot of joy through him. _Glad someone here thinks I'm a nice guy._

"We were all of us new here at one point," Alicia said. "Remember our First Year, when those older students dared me to go into the Forbidden Forest? Remember all the points I lost for Gryffindor when I got caught? You forgave me for that."

"Well, in our case, we knew you couldn't help yourself," Fred interjected.

"Yeah," George jumped in. "You never could take direction back then."

"Still don't, if you ask me."

"Isn't that the reason you fell into that bed of Blue Dreariums in the first place?"

The twins laughed.

"Sod off, you gits." Alicia scowled at them, but tacked on a quick smile.

Angelina's scowled deepened. "Then maybe he should have asked someone here what to do to not get points taken away from Gryffindor, instead of being moody and anti-social all the time."

"Well what about all the times people like you rode my ass when I got in trouble?" O'Bannon responded. "Maybe you could have offered me some advice instead of jumping down my throat."

Angelina's eyes blazed with anger. Had her skin not been the color of dark chocolate, her cheeks would no doubt have a crimson glow to them right now.

"He really is a good guy."

All their heads turned in the direction of the small voice. A few seats down, Dennis Creevey sat next to his brother Colin, looking very nervous.

"Where do you get off butting into our conversation?" Angelina snapped at him.

"Ang, c'mon." Fred sounded like he was scolding her. Even though O'Bannon had only really gotten to know him over the last hour, the tone sounded so out of place coming from him.

"Creevey, isn't it?" George asked.

"Yes."

"I heard about you. You're that Firstie who fell in the lake before the Welcoming Feast."

"Yeah, I did. And Jimmy almost jumped in to get me."

"Almost?" Fred turned to him. "What, did you have second thoughts about saving a First Year? Or can you just not swim?"

"I can swim, but that giant squid in your lake hauled Dennis out of the water before I could dive in."

"Really?" asked Alicia.

"It's true." Dennis leaned across the table, trying to get closer to them. "Stewart Ackerly and Laura Madley told me all about it the next day. They said Jimmy took off his backpack and was all set to jump in after me when the giant squid saved me."

Katie's eyes bulged. "I saw the lake on our way up to the castle. The water looked rough. You could have drowned."

O'Bannon met her gaze, thinking back to that night. That thought hadn't even crossed his mind as he was set to dive in after Dennis.

"Why did you do it?" asked Angelina. "Why did try to save this kid?"

O'Bannon shrugged. "Because I didn't see anyone else about to do it."

Angelina didn't say a word. She just stared at him, though her face did seem to soften a bit.

She stared down at the table for a few seconds before looking back up at him. "So what now? Are we supposed to automatically become friends?"

He flexed his jaw, thinking. "All I'm asking is that you give me a fair shake, and I'll do the same in return. And . . . and I'll stop being an anti-social prick around here."

"And what about all those points you lost us?"

"Help me understand this whole point system thing and I'll do my best to get those points back. If I stick to my end, you can make up your own mind whether you like me or think I'm a . . . wanker, or whatever."

He sore a smile flashed across Angelina's face, but it was so brief he couldn't be certain.

"Oh c'mon, Ang." Katie nudged her shoulder. "Show him you can actually be a nice person when you want."

She sent Katie a quick glare before turning back to O'Bannon. A few moments of silence passed before Angelina drew a slow breath. "All right, then. You do what you say, and I'll give you a second chance."

"Sounds good to me."

The two shook hands.

For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, O'Bannon was actually part of a conversation throughout a meal time. They explained the concept of the points system and the House Cup, which teachers tended to award points liberally – Flitwick and Sprout were two of them – and which ones were very stingy. That would be Snape, unless you happened to be in Slytherin. Trelawney also fell into that category, but only because she was so "flighty" she simply forgot to do it.

He also got an earful on the Slytherin House.

"It's got a reputation for producing dark witches and wizards," Alicia told him. "There's more than a few kids in that house whose parents were Death Eaters."

"They're also obsessed with blood purity," Lee said. "Just like ol' Salazar Slytherin was."

"He was one of the founders of Hogwarts, right?" asked O'Bannon.

"That's right. Thought only pureblood witches and wizards should be allowed at Hogwarts. When the other three founders told him they weren't for it, he left."

"Most of them also aren't fond of Muggle-borns," Katie mentioned. "A couple of years ago our Quidditch team was on the way to the pitch for practice and we ran into the Slytherin team. Do you know Draco Malfoy?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, Hermione Granger said something to take the mickey out of him, and he called her a . . ." Katie checked around, then lowered her voice. "A Mudblood."

He sneered at the word, a favorite one of the racists in this world for Muggle-borns, since, in their warped view, such witches and wizards possessed "dirty blood." He'd heard that word a few times at Salem, even directed at him. Though the assholes who called him that never did it more than once.

"Poor Ron, though." George shook his head. "He came to Hermione's defense, tried to curse that little plonker Malfoy. But he had a busted wand then and the curse backfired. Spent the rest of the day puking up slugs."

"Ugh!" O'Bannon's face scrunched in disgust. "Well, I guess I can see why you have so many problems with that House. What about the other ones? Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff?"

"Not too many problems with them," Fred answered. "Lots of decent blokes in both Houses. Katie's older sister was actually in Hufflepuff."

"Definitely the nicer of the two Bell sisters, if you ask me." George wore a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Well no one did, you git," Katie snapped. "So get stuffed."

The Brits then asked him questions about Salem, what the campus was like, how the teachers were, what sort of activities they had. Fred and George also brought up how O'Bannon showed them how to play hockey. The others looked rather interested in it, Katie especially. The more he talked, and the more Fred and George and the others talked, the more O'Bannon felt his anger vanish. Something else also vanished.

His desire to bolt from Hogwarts.

Once they finished eating, Fred and George introduced him to a few other students. Some he made amends with. Others would probably need time to accept him as something other than a point-losing American psycho.

One student made him speechless when Fred introduced him.

"Harry. Don't know if you met our resident Yank. This is Jimmy O'Bannon from the Salem Witches Institute. Jimmy, I'm sure even you Americans have heard of Harry Potter."

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon walked in stunned silence back to Gryffindor Tower. _I met Harry Potter. I actually met Harry Potter. _This was even more exciting than the time he met Ray Bourque. While he admired the outstanding defenseman for the Boston Bruins, the guy never took down the most infamous dark wizard in history like Harry Potter. He shook the kid's hand, and he seemed like a cool guy.

_Oh man, is everyone back at Salem gonna be jealous of me._

_Speaking of which . . ._

He hurried back to his room, sat down, and wrote a letter.

_Dear Rosa, Jared and Artimus,_

_You're not gonna believe this, but today was actually a good day at Hogwarts._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	11. Moving On

**CHAPTER 11: MOVING ON**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon rushed down the ice. Fred and George were in front of him, skating backwards. He glanced to his right. Katie Bell skated parallel to him, the puck on her stick. Beyond the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan stood in goal, stretching out his arms and legs. The spaces above his left and right shoulders looked like yawning chasms to an athlete like O'Bannon.<p>

Katie pushed the puck his way. The Weasleys reached out with their sticks, trying to knock it away. O'Bannon corralled the puck on his stick. He made like he was about to send it back to Katie, then reared back and took the shot. The puck zipped through the air between the twins and over Lee's left shoulder. The twine in the back of the net popped.

"Yeah!" O'Bannon skated around the goal, right knee raised and right arm drawn back in celebration.

"Blimey." Fred grinned and shook his head. "Do all Muggle hockey players do that every time they score a goal?"

"Oh please, this is nothing compared to what football players do after a touchdown."

Lee scrunched his face in bewilderment. "What players and after a what?"

O'Bannon gave them a quick explanation of football – American football – ending with, "The team gets six points when a player carries or catches the ball in the end zone."

"The what?" asked Katie.

"A big patch of grass at each end of the field. Lots of times when players score, they do some crazy-ass dance."

"Well show us, mate," said George.

"What?"

"Now how are we supposed to gain a proper appreciation for Muggle sports if we don't see first-hand what one of these touchdown dances look like." Fred grinned.

"Aw, c'mon."

"Don't 'aw, c'mon' us," Katie chimed in. "I want to see this for myself, too."

"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy," Lee chanted.

The twins joined in the chant. So did Katie. So did Alicia, whose condition from the Blue Dreariums restricted her to being their sole fan.

"Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy!"

"All right, all right! Jeez."

O'Bannon pretended to spike a football, then threw his arms up over his head and gyrated his hips. Both Katie and Alicia responded with a high-pitched, "Wooooo!"

He then did a "Walk Like an Egyptian," followed by a moonwalk, and capped it off with spinning around and throwing a salute.

Everyone laughed and applauded. O'Bannon smiled and took a bow. He still couldn't believe how much things had changed for him at Hogwarts in the two weeks since Fred and George befriended him. He now had a small group of friends he hung out with. Slowly but surely, some of the other Gryffindors warmed up to him, even Angelina Johnson. He also hadn't cost his House any points, at least outside of Potions class. Snape seemed determined to dock him points for any little thing. Holding a mixing spoon improperly, grinding roots too slow, or saying _"Haag-waahts" _or _"Professah" _instead of "Hogwarts" and "Professor."Fred and George and the other Gryffindors were more forgiving this time, especially since Snape always took away points from their House any chance he got.

Best of all, he had some friends to play hockey with. He doubted he could have lasted an entire year without hitting the ice, even if it was just for a casual pick-up game.

"So how about someone else play keeper," Lee suggested.

"Goalie," O'Bannon responded with mock offense. "Or goaltender or netminder."

"Fine. Goalie then," Lee shot back in faux annoyance.

"I'll do it," Katie volunteered.

Lee removed the magically thickened pillows from his arms, legs and torso, and used his wand to dissipate the Bubble-Head Charm that served as his goalie mask. O'Bannon smiled at their ingenuity. A little magic, and a little imagination, and they had some makeshift goalie equipment.

Once Katie got situated between the pipes, Fred and George sped down the ice, on the attack, while O'Bannon and Lee defended. The twins did a good job passing the puck back and forth, better than he would have expected for two guys who hadn't even heard of hockey until a couple of weeks ago.

He shook off his admiration for the twins' skills, concentrating instead on keeping them from getting a good shot.

George passed to Fred, who fired a one-timer. The puck sailed five feet to the left of the net.

"What a surprise. You missed!"

O'Bannon turned in the direction of the voice. He saw a short, thin girl with long red hair near the edge of the pond. Colin Creevey stood next to her, with his brother, Dennis, peeking out from behind him.

"Shut it, runt!" George hollered back.

"This is why I hate having you on my side when we play Quidditch at our paddock," the twins' sister, Ginny, said. "You never score, and we always lose."

O'Bannon cracked a smile. This reminded him of watching Rosa and Jared rag on one another.

"You think you can do better?" Fred challenged her. "Come down here and give it a go."

"Though we wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself, dear, sweet sister," George added.

Ginny's face turned as red as her hair. "You wankers are the ones who'll be embarrassed. I'll make sure of that."

Fred and George trembled, pretending to be frightened. The way Ginny looked at the twins, O'Bannon expected them to burst into flames.

After Alicia transfigured Ginny's shoes into skates and put a Balancing Charm on them, the little redhead skated over to them.

"Um . . ." Dennis raised his hand. "Um, C-Can we play?"

O'Bannon shrugged. "Yeah, sure. The more the merrier."

Once the three newcomers were on the ice, O'Bannon told them the basics of hockey, then had Katie come out of goal so they could have a four-on-four scrimmage. Him, Fred and George, and Lee on one side, Katie, Ginny and the Creeveys on the other. He also transfigured a log into another net, which they set up on the other side of the pond.

O'Bannon scored the first two goals, all the while taking note of the Creeveys. Colin had no athletic ability whatsoever. Still, he seemed to enjoy himself in spite of it. His younger brother was even worse. The kid lacked any sort of coordination. But what did it matter? They were just out here to have fun.

After Katie scored for her side, O'Bannon got the puck. His eyes darted around the ice, noting everyone's position. He smacked the puck to George, who then passed to Fred. Katie tried to poke check it away with her stick. Fred spun away from her and passed the puck to Lee. O'Bannon blew past Colin. Dennis tried to pursue him, but couldn't keep up.

O'Bannon smiled when he saw empty air between him and the net.

"Lee! I'm open!"

Lee shot the puck down the ice. O'Bannon reached out with his stick, ready to get –

A blur of long red hair streaked into his vision. Ginny intercepted the puck and took off toward the other end of the pond.

"Oh crap!" O'Bannon pumped his legs and went after her. Fred tried to cut her off, but she slipped past him. Ginny streaked down the ice, looking like she was on a broom instead of skates.

She easily buried the puck in the net. Both Katie and Alicia cheered her. Ginny then turned around, aiming her narrowed eyes at the twins. "See. I can do it better than you two gits."

Fred gave her a dismissive wave. "Anyone can get lucky."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

O'Bannon looked at her and nodded. Ginny had some wicked speed and sharp moves. With a more solid frame like, say, Rosa or Angelina Johnson, she could probably play on one of Salem's hockey teams.

They played for another ten minutes before heading back to the castle for dinner.

"That was rather fun," Ginny said. "It's a bit like Quidditch, only with skates instead of brooms."

"Glad you enjoyed it." O'Bannon smiled, happy to see another convert to Muggle sports, especially the great sport of hockey.

"I'm sorry I didn't do better, Jimmy." Dennis frowned.

"Don't worry about it." He tapped him on the shoulder. "We're just doing this for fun. Heck, if we were playing a real game, it'd be way more intense. We'd be slamming into one another, maybe even dropping the gloves and fighting."

"Oy! Hang on." Lee spun around to face him. "You can actually fight in hockey?"

"Heck yeah."

"You're serious?" Katie gaped. "You can really punch someone in a hockey game and it's perfectly all right?"

"Yeah . . . well yes and no. I mean, if you fight, they'll put you in the penalty box."

"The what?" asked Ginny.

"It's this little enclosed booth where you sit if you commit a penalty. Like, if you trip someone, you come off the ice for two minutes, and then you can go back in. If you fight, you're in the box for five minutes before you can come back in the game."

Fred smiled wide. "I'm liking this hockey game more and more."

"Me too." George's smile matched that of his twin. "Imagine if we could pound on the Slytherins during a Quidditch match and our only punishment is to sit on our arses for five minutes. I can deal with that."

"So can I, George."

"Yeah, but fighting's not the only thing you can do. You can ram into guys and -"

"Merlin's beard," Alicia blurted. "Is that Herbert Baden and Melanie Rhodes?"

O'Bannon followed Alicia's gaze. Sitting against a tree about twenty yards away was a tall young man. A girl with short blond hair draped herself over him and appeared to be sucking all the air out of his lungs.

"I didn't know they were together," said Katie.

"Looks like they're _really_ together, if you know what I mean." Fred waggled his eyebrows.

"I do, Fred. Go Herbert." George pumped a fist.

Ginny groaned. "Why don't they get a bloody room?"

O'Bannon tensed as he watched the two Gryffindors continue to kiss. Memories surfaced of all the times at Salem he and Penny sat under some tree far removed from everyone and made out. He could still feel the softness of her lips, her hair tickling his cheek.

_And now some other guy's making out with her._

He clutched his stick in a death grip. With a snort, he turned away from the kissing Gryffindors. "C'mon, let's go to dinner. I'm starving."

O'Bannon stomped off without waiting for a response.

"Oi, Jimmy," Fred called after him. "You all right?"

He glanced back at Herbert and Melanie and scowled. "I'm fine."

**XXXXX**

Dinner turned out to be not as enjoyable as O'Bannon would have liked. Then again, how could anyone enjoy a delicious beef stew with Alicia or Katie asking, "Are you all right?" every five friggin' minutes?

"I'm fine," he always answered, though his tone grew more annoyed with each inquiry.

After dinner, he retreated to his room, trying to work on his essays for Potions and Transfiguration. It proved difficult with Penny constantly invading his thoughts. At one point, he walked over to his trunk, pausing several seconds before opening it. He reached down to the bottom until he felt a framed photograph. He held his breath and pulled it out.

It was a Muggle photo of him and Penny posing in front of the Christmas tree at his house. She wore the Boston Red Sox sweatshirt he got her as a present.

His insides sagged as he remembered that day, how Penny loved her "Muggle gift." The kiss she gave him to thank him for it. How things like the coffee maker and the dishwasher and the stapler fascinated her. How Mom and Dad thought Penny was such a wonderful girl. That had been his best Christmas ever. He also felt that had been the day when they truly fell in love with one another.

So what the hell happened to make it all go wrong? Hadn't he been a good boyfriend? Didn't he treat her well? Hadn't he promised to be loyal to her while in England?

Why couldn't she do the same?

O'Bannon threw the photo back in his trunk and slammed it shut. He fell onto his bed, not caring about his homework. He just wanted to close his eyes, fall asleep and forget about Penny.

His mind, however, wouldn't allow it. He was tortured with images of their time together, and some other guy kissing and holding Penny the way he used to.

He didn't think it possible to hate and miss someone at the same time. Penny Nichols, however, proved him wrong.

**XXXXX**

Over the next few days, O'Bannon did everything he could to get Penny out of his head. He tackled his pile of homework. He increased the amount of time he ran and lifted. He read more about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Usually it worked.

Then he'd see some couple walking down the corridors holding hands, or sitting in the common room pressed together and laughing. He recalled all the times he and Penny did that stuff back at Salem.

Now she was doing it with someone else.

One afternoon during lunch, two owls from the US arrived for him. One carried a letter from Headmistress Esmeralda. O'Bannon grimaced as he held it in his hand. _This can't be good._ At least he could count his blessings it hadn't come in the dark red envelope of a Howler.

No surprise, his headmistress expressed her shock and "utter disappointment" over his behavior at Hogwarts. She added that he had "disgraced the oldest and most renown school of magic in America," and if his conduct "does not radically change, I will personally drag you back to Salem and make you regret ever setting foot in the Wizarding World."

O'Bannon frowned. He had really let down Headmistress Esmeralda, a witch he greatly respected. He figured he'd better write her back as soon as he finished his classes today and let her know things had changed for the better at Hogwarts.

A few minutes after reading his headmistress' letter, a second owl arrived with a letter from Rosa. She told him about Penny cheating on him, how she confronted her in the Communal Hall, and how she dumped six plates of food all over her. That should have made him feel better. Instead it just reinforced the depth of Penny's betrayal.

O'Bannon was pissed! At Penny, for sure. But he had other targets for his anger. This Zephyrus Klockner jagoff, who probably had his hands all over Penny right now. He also found himself pissed at Hogwarts, just when he finally started to enjoy it here. But if he hadn't won the exchange student competition, he'd be back at Salem, with Penny. She wouldn't have a reason to cheat on him and dump him.

_How do you know? _Maybe Penny had always been a shallow, two-faced backstabber. Maybe she hid it from him their entire time together.

O'Bannon gripped the letter, crumpling its sides. Had his entire ten months with Penny been a damn lie?

"Bad news from home, Jimmy Boy?"

He turned to find George looking at him. The corners of his mouth twitched. He hadn't told anyone here about Penny. For one, he'd only known the twins and the others for a few weeks and didn't feel comfortable dumping all his personal baggage on them. For another, part of him felt embarrassed that Penny dumped him for another guy. He could imagine other people thinking, _If you were a better man, she wouldn't need to kick you to the curb for someone else._

"It's nothing." O'Bannon balled up the letter and shoved it in his pocket.

"It doesn't seem like 'nothing' to me." Kate said. "You look rather upset."

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine," O'Bannon snapped, wishing girls knew the difference between the "I'm fine" that meant everything was fine, and the "I'm fine" that meant, "I'm not really fine, but I don't want to talk about it."

Thankfully, Katie left him alone for the rest of lunch. So did the others. That suited him just fine.

**XXXXX**

That Saturday, O'Bannon noticed a buzz through the Great Hall during breakfast. When he asked Lee what it was about, he answered, "I can't believe you forgot. It's our first Hogsmeade weekend of the year."

O'Bannon mentally kicked himself. He'd been so busy sulking over Penny it slipped his mind that they'd be visiting the wizarding village next to Hogwarts.

_Maybe this'll help make me forget about her._

Shortly after breakfast, most of the students, minus the First and Second Years, gathered in the courtyard. Once Professor McGonagall collected everyone's permission slips, he led them through the wrought iron gate and toward the village. Fred and George spent the entire walk arguing about where they should go first, a candy store named Honeydukes or a joke shop called Zonko's.

"Just flip a friggin' coin," O'Bannon said when he felt the argument had gone on long enough.

They did, George declaring heads for Zonko's and tails for Honeydukes before he flipped it. The coin came up tails. That put a smile on the faces of Lee, Katie, Alicia and Angelina. O'Bannon couldn't blame them. He had more interest in candy than joke items.

Honeydukes did not disappoint. The place was packed with all kinds of candies and pastries, some of which O'Bannon had never seen. The Fizzing Whizzbees, little balls of sherbet, were tasty, though they made him float a few inches off the ground for a good five minutes. He also enjoyed the Pumpkin Fizzes, the Peppermint Toads, and even the Sugared Butterfly Wings, though Alicia had to pester him into trying them. And the fudge! Merlin's beard, he couldn't get over all the delicious combinations. Chocolate and peanut butter with nuts, marshmallow and peppermint, vanilla and raspberry. He could eat this stuff all day.

Once they finished at Honeyduke's, they headed over to Zonko's, which the twins seemed to enjoy more than the sweet shop.

_To each his own, I guess._

While checking out the Nose-Biting Teacups, O'Bannon noticed Fred and George huddled together, jotting down something on a piece of parchment.

"What are you guys up to?"

The twins looked up and him, then checked around, as though not wanting to be caught doing something they shouldn't be doing.

"Research, Jimmy Boy," Fred whispered.

"One day, we're going to open up our own joke shop," George said. "It'll be a hundred times better than Zonko's, mark my words."

O'Bannon nodded. That sounded pretty cool. He hoped they succeeded. He also found it interesting that two guys like Fred and George already knew what they wanted to do after graduation, while he had absolutely no idea.

_Aw well, I still got one more year of school to go. I've got time._

From Zonko's they headed for Spintwitches, a sporting goods store. Along the way they passed a small building with pink siding and steamed up windows.

"What the heck is that place?" he asked.

"Oh, that's Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop." Alicia clasped her hands together and smiled. "Lovely place. I had my very first date there. It was so romantic."

"Keep that in mind, Jimmy Boy." Fred grasped his shoulder. "If you want to really impress a girl, that's the place to take her."

"I couldn't agree more," said George. "Speaking of which, any members of the fairer sex you're eyeing here at Hogwarts?"

O'Bannon's lips tightened. He turned his gaze to the ground.

"Lots of lovely ladies in Gryffindor." Fred nudged him with his elbow.

"Quite a few in Hufflepuff, too," George added.

"And in Ravenclaw, and with them you get beauty and brains."

"Even Slytherin has a few lookers."

"Not that you'd want to deal with their attitudes, though."

O'Bannon's face twisted in anger. His mind bombarded him with memories of his dates with Penny in Ovenderburg, the times they spent in places like Mowane's Manor of Magical Merchants and Perlmutter's Palace of Chocolate.

Now she probably went there with that Klockner asshole.

"C'mon. I wanna get to Spintwitches." He stalked off.

"Was it something we said?" George quipped.

"Jimmy? Are you all right?" Katie asked.

"I'm fine," he grumbled and kept walking.

The sound of pounding feet came up behind him. Suddenly Katie jumped in front of him. He skidded to a stop to keep from running into her.

"Katie, what the hell?"

"What's wrong?"

O'Bannon groaned and looked up at the overcast sky.

"Something's bothering you, I can tell. So what is it?"

With his peripheral vision, he noticed the twins, Lee, Alicia and Angelina approaching him.

"I'm fine."

"Bullocks!" Katie put her hands on her hips. "What's going on? Are you having more problems here?"

"No. This has nothing to do with Hogwarts."

"Then what is it? C'mon, Jimmy. I thought we were all supposed to be friends now."

He looked around at the others. Katie was right. They were all friends. But not family like he considered Rosa, Jared and Artimus. If something really bothered him, he had no problem telling them about it.

_Well, they're three thousand miles away. _Right here and right now, these six Brits were the only friends he had.

His shoulders sagged. He sighed, then told them the whole sad, sorry tale of him and Penny Nichols.

"Bloody hell," George gaped. "She was with some other bloke while you where here at Hogwarts?"

"I can't believe she'd do that." Alicia pressed a hand against her heart. "Especially after you promised you'd be faithful to her."

"And to tell you all that via owl?" Lee shook his head. "That's cold, mate."

Angelina frowned, then reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jimmy."

"Yeah, thanks."

"No wonder you were so miserable," said Katie. "How horrible."

"I say we vote this Penny Nichols the worst girlfriend in the Wizarding World," Fred announced. "All those in favor . . ."

All six of them raised their hands.

O'Bannon couldn't help but chuckle. "Thank, guys."

"Not a problem." Fred draped a hand around his shoulders and guided him forward. "Now, how's about we take you to The Three Broomsticks to drown your sorrows in Butterbeer?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me," said George. "Time for you to forget about, er, what was her name again?"

"George is right." Katie nodded sharply. "This Penny sounds like someone the Sorting Hat would stick in Slytherin. You were true to her, she wasn't. As far as I'm concerned, she doesn't deserve a guy like you."

Those words stuck in O'Bannon's head during the rest of their time in Hogsmeade. Whenever he felt depressed about their break-up, whenever he got mad at Penny's cheating, he replayed Katie's words. She was spot on, as the Brits said. He started feeling stupid for every time he thought their break-up might be his fault. He had always treated Penny right. He promised he'd stay faithful to her. He didn't think it possible to be a better boyfriend.

Yet how did Penny repay him? By making out with another guy and telling him about it in a damn letter.

_And I'm getting all bummed out and pissed off over a girl like that?_

They headed back to the castle later in the afternoon. When O'Bannon and the others returned to the common room, George asked him, "Fancy a game of Exploding Snap before supper?"

"Not right now. I'll check you later."

He jogged up the stairs and headed for his room. Quincy Questor was sitting at his desk, reading a book, as usual. Had he been cooped up here all day while most of the school had been at Hogsmeade?

_His loss._

O'Bannon opened his trunk and pulled out several framed photos. Carrying them under his arm, he left the room and headed back down to the common room.

"Oy, Jimmy!" Fred called out. "Where are you off to?"

"To do something I should've done a long time ago." He climbed through the portrait hole and took the stairs down to the first floor. It wasn't until he neared the entrance to the Great Hall that he noticed the twins, Lee and the girls behind him.

He went outside, walking until he reached a small hill overlooking Hagrid's cabin.

"So what's this all about?" Lee asked.

O'Bannon set down the photographs, then picked one up and showed it to them. "See this? This is me and Penny at my school's Christmas Dance."

He pulled out his wand with his free hand, twisted around, and flung the photo like a Frisbee.

"_Reducto!"_

The photo disintegrated in a puff of red and black.

He picked up another photo. "Me and Penny, right after my hockey team won the Brunet/Glynn Cup last year."

O'Bannon tossed that photo into the air and blasted it with a Reductor Curse. He did the same to the next photo, and the next, and the next.

Finally, just one photo remained. Him and Penny in front of the Christmas tree at his house. His eyes narrowed at the Boston Red Sox sweatshirt she wore, the one he got her as a gift.

_Well there's twenty bucks down the crapper._

He chucked it high into the air. _"Reducto!"_

The photo exploded into nothingness.

O'Bannon lowered his wand. He heard soft footsteps approaching and turned. Katie sidled up to him, smiling.

"So how do you feel?"

He let out a long breath. "Better."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	12. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

**CHAPTER 12: ****BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon couldn't believe it. They actually had a crowd for their pick-up game today.<p>

If nine people could be considered a crowd.

Joining Alicia on the banks of the pond were Stewart Ackerly and Laura Madley, the two First Years who'd been on O'Bannon's boat when he arrived at Hogwarts. Fred and George's younger brother, Ron, also took in the game, though looked thoroughly confused by what he saw. Standing next to him, much to O'Bannon's surprise, was Hermione Granger, who spent more time talking to Ron than watching them on the ice.

_Probably trying to get him to join 'spew.'_

Also watching were two Fourth Year boys named Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. A few feet from them stood Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. He swore those two eyed him every time he skated past them. A few times he looked their way, giving them a wink or a quick smile. Each time they turned to one another, covered their faces with their hands and giggled.

_Yeah. Hockey player equals stud._

He felt almost liberated, being able to think that way without an ounce of guilt. It convinced him that he'd completely moved on from Penny Nichols. He no longer got depressed or mad when he thought of her. Over the past few days, the times he thought about Penny were few and far between. Instead, he started thinking about the witches at Hogwarts.

Lavender and Parvati, "The Giggle Twins," had a combined hotness factor powerful enough to melt Antarctica. Katie, Angelina and Alicia were all very attractive, too. He'd also seen plenty of other hotties in Gryffindor, and several more at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. After tomorrow, he'd have an international buffet of beautiful witches to choose from when the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived for the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

_Jimmy O'Bannon is back on the market, and ladies, the line begins right here._

The smile he wore nearly consumed his face. He looked over at Lavender and Parvati. They caught his gaze, turned to one another and giggled.

"Yo, let's do some penalty shots. I'll go first."

"Want to do a bit of showing off to the crowd?" Fred joked.

"Or at least, two attractive members of it?" George grinned, nodding toward Lavender and Parvati.

O'Bannon just shrugged. The twins laughed.

"George, I do believe our American friend is over, er, what was that witch's name again?"

"Dunno, Fred. I think it started with a 'G' or something."

O'Bannon chuckled, then reached out for a nearby puck with his stick. "Gentlemen, you're about to see what wicked cool looks like."

Fred and George pretended like they were impressed.

Eyes aimed directly down the ice, O'Bannon skated forward. Lee crouched in the net. O'Bannon picked up speed as he approached him. He deked left, then right, then left again. He spotted an opening above Lee's right shoulder.

_Now!_

O'Bannon smacked the puck, angled his body to the right and raised his right leg, the sort of form that looked awesome on hockey cards.

The puck sailed over the top of the net.

He snorted, letting his blade drop to the ice. Lavender and Parvati fell on one another in hysterics.

"Oh yeah." Fred skated over and nudged him. "You'll definitely be in their dreams tonight, Jimmy Boy."

He scowled at Fred. "Bite me."

They each took turns taking penalty shots. Ginny had the best one, beating Lee right between the legs for the goal.

"Are they really enjoying themselves?" O'Bannon overhead Ron ask Hermione. "I mean, how fun can it be to play a sport where you never leave the ground?"

"Ronald, it's a Muggle sport. There's not going to be any flying. If anything, it should give you a better appreciation of how Muggles get along without magic."

Ron stared at Hermione in silence for a few seconds, then rubbed the back of his head and looked away.

Dennis Creevey took the next penalty shot. The tiny First Year skated straight ahead, pushing the puck instead of deking it left to right.

"Dennis, go side-to-side with the stick. Don't give the goalie an idea where the shot's gonna go."

"Oh!" Dennis stopped and looked to him. "Okay, Jimmy."

He started up again, deking to the left. He then moved the stick to the right and clipped the puck. It dribbled away from him. Dennis swatted at it, missing. He brought down the stick again, clipping the side of the puck and flipping it into the air. Dennis swung his stick like a baseball bat. He missed and whirled around. Had it not been for the Balancing Charm on his skates, he would have fallen on his ass.

O'Bannon couldn't help but cringe. He quickly wiped the expression off his face, reminding himself they were here strictly for fun, not competition.

Two howls of laughter erupted. He looked beyond the edge of the pond and spotted a boy with a hawkish face and unruly black hair, doubled over and slapping his knee. A second boy, this one tall with dark hair, shook with laughter as he pointed at Dennis.

"Oy! Get a load of that. It looks like he's dancing on broken glass in a whirlwind."

The two boys laughed harder.

O'Bannon glared at them.

"Lay off him, you wankers!" Ginny snapped.

"Why don't you two try it?" Katie jabbed a finger at the pair, both of whom had the blue and bronze eagle crest of Ravenclaw on their robes. "Or are you afraid you'll fall on your arses?"

"Sorry, Bell," replied the first boy. "I don't go for games where the object is to not be bored out of your mind."

The two Ravenclaws continued laughing.

"Count your blessings Professor Dumbledore cancelled the Quidditch season, Corner" said Fred. "Otherwise I'd crack your head open with a Bludger."

"Not that you'd do him any damage," George added. "It's not like he's got anything of importance in there."

"Oh, good one, Weasley. Ha-ha."

"Ya'know." O'Bannon skated to the edge of the pond, his eyes locked on this Corner nimrod and his buddy. "No one's forcing you to watch us. If you're bored, do us all a favor and leave."

"Actually," the tall Ravenclaw responded. "Making fun of this kiddie game is the one thing keeping us from being bored."

O'Bannon felt anger lines dig into his face. He noticed the Weasley twins and Ginny approaching from behind.

"Ah! How delightful to see all of you outside on a fine day like this."

All heads turned in the direction of the voice. O'Bannon's eyes widened when he recognized the man walking toward them.

None other than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.

Corner and his friend stifled their laughter as the ancient wizard strolled over to the pond. He aimed a curious gaze at O'Bannon and his friends.

"So what is it exactly you're doing here?"

"We're playing hockey, Professor," Katie answered.

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Hockey?"

"It's a Muggle game," Lee said. "Jimmy here showed us how to play."

"Have to do something sporty with no Quidditch this year," George added.

Dumbledore looked toward O'Bannon. He just stared at the old wizard, his stomach flipping over. He recalled the stories he'd read about Dumbledore's legendary duel with Gellert Grindelwald. Now here stood the man who defeated that dark wizard, looking at him, about to speak to him.

"Ah, our resident American." Dumbledore smiled. "So, Mister O'Bannon, what does one do in this hockey game?"

"Um, well, Headmaster, you skate around and try to knock the puck – that little black disk – into the net. I mean, it's not easy, 'cause there's five skaters trying to stop you and a goalie in the net."

"Hmm. Sounds a bit like Quidditch."

"Um, yeah. Kind of."

"Well, I applaud your efforts to demonstrate a Muggle game to our students. I'll make it a point to let Professor McGonagall know about this. She can include this in her next report to your headmistress."

"Uh, uh, uh . . . Th-Thanks, Headmaster." He had no idea what else to say. Albus Dumbledore didn't know him from Adam, yet the old wizard gave him props for teaching hockey to his friends and wanted McGonagall to put in a good word for him with Headmistress Esmeralda. The whole thing just blew his mind.

"Perhaps I should mention this to Professor Burbage. She's our Muggle Studies teacher. She might be calling on you to explain your hockey game to her, Mister O'Bannon."

"Um, sure, Headmaster. No problem."

"Excellent." Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "Well, I shant keep you from enjoying yourselves any longer." He started to walk away, then looked back at the two Ravenclaws. "Oh! Mister Corner, Mister Boot. Did I interrupt you from dispensing advice to the students out there on the pond?"

"Um-um, no, Professor," Corner stammered.

"Actually, we were just leaving," said Boot. "We've got, um, homework . . . Yeah! We've got homework to do. C'mon, Mike."

He grabbed Mike Corner by the shoulder and pulled him away from the pond.

With a sly grin, Dumbledore strode off. O'Bannon watched him go, shaking his head. _Well I'll be damned. _He'd definitely have to include this in his next letter to Rosa, Jared and Artimus.

They played for another fifteen minutes before heading back to the castle.

"By the way, Jimmy," Lee said. "After supper we're going to listen to the wireless. They're debuting the latest songs by The Weird Sisters."

O'Bannon noted the excited expressions on the faces of Katie, Alicia, Ginny and Colin. He had a hard time matching them. He'd heard some Weird Sisters songs before. They weren't too bad. Actually, with the exception of Frozen Aurora and Deadly Curses, he didn't think much of wizarding rock bands. Most of them sounded like lame pop acts from the 1980s. After six years in the Wizarding World, he still preferred Muggle bands like Led Zeppelin or Iron Maiden over magical ones like The Weird Sisters.

"Sorry, but I'm gonna take a pass. I gotta get some of my homework done."

"Just do it in the common room while you're listening to The Weird Sisters," Fred suggested. "Besides, we're much more pleasant company than your roommates."

"I can't argue with that." O'Bannon paused. "By the way, what's the story with those guys?"

"Still not getting along with them?" asked Alicia.

"Can't say that's surprise," Lee said. "I don't know if anyone's friends with Questor."

"How can you make friends when your nose is always buried in a book?" George snorted. "Worse than Hermione Granger, that one is."

"So why the hell does he seem to study every waking minute of every day?" O'Bannon asked.

"Questor's whole family are Ravenclaws," George told him. "Brilliant lot, from what we've heard. His dad runs the Ministry's Committee on Experimental Charms and his sister owns a potions shop."

"When he got sorted into Gryffindor," Fred took over, "his parents thought he wasn't up to snuff in the brains department. So he's been hitting the books like mad since First Year to prove them wrong."

O'Bannon winced. "Sounds like the family of my friend, Artimus, back at Salem."

As the entrance to the castle came into view, he asked, "So what about Hurst and Eddleton. What's up with them?"

"They used to be all right," Alicia answered. "But when Simon got his prefect's badge, it sort of went to his head. He's always trying to be the perfect prefect."

"Ha!" Fred barked. "Perfect prefect! George, say that five times fast."

George managed to do it three times before he stumbled over his tongue.

"Anyway . . ." Katie glared at the twins before continuing. "Simon and Ian used to be good friends. But one night Simon caught Ian in the Transfiguration classroom after hours with his girlfriend."

"In a very _compromising _position with his girlfriend, I might add." Fred grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

Katie huffed and shot him another glare before turning back to O'Bannon. "As I was saying, Simon caught Ian and his girlfriend and took away five points from each of them. Ian started to argue with him, and Simon kept taking away points from him. Ian's girlfriend tried to get him to stop, but he told her to shut it. She dumped him on the spot."

"Damn," O'Bannon said. "That makes for one suck-ass night. I can see why they can't stand one another."

Fred slapped him on the shoulder. "I feel for you, Jimmy Boy. Stuck in a room with those gits for the rest of the year."

"Mm." He just nodded. That was one aspect of life at Hogwarts that hadn't changed, his relations with his roommates. Given their personalities, he wondered if it would ever change.

After dropping off his hockey gear in his room, O'Bannon showered, changed and headed to the Great Hall for dinner. He ate quicker than normal, then hurried back to his room to get to work on his Transfiguration essay. He got halfway down his parchment when Questor entered, sat at his desk and opened one of his text books. O'Bannon said nothing to him. For him, Questor had become like a piece of furniture. Just there. He couldn't see that changing.

He'd filled ten inches of parchment when Hurst walked into the room. The prefect gave him a quick glance before heading over to his desk. O'Bannon rolled his quill between his thumb and index finger before turning to the other boy. "Hey, Hurst."

"What?" Hurst glanced at him before rifling through one of his desk drawers.

O'Bannon groaned. This jagoff wasn't going to make it easy, it seemed.

_Suck it up. You gotta live with him for the rest of the year._

He got up and walked over to Hurst. "Um, look, man. I know I've given you some crap since I got here. I had a lotta . . . stuff goin' on, and I probably should've handled it better."

Hurst looked at him, then straightened up. "Well, nice of you to admit you were wrong."

O'Bannon clenched his jaw, wanting to tell the guy to go piss up a rope. _Make peace._

He drew a breath before continuing. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry, and hopefully we can start over." He stuck out his hand.

Hurst stared at it for a couple moments, then shook it. "Apology accepted. Now just follow the rules and there won't be any trouble between us."

"Um, yeah. Sure." O'Bannon forced himself not to frown. He doubted very much that he and Simon Hurst would ever be friends. Still, so long as they could be civil toward one another for the remainder of the school year, he could live with that.

**XXXXX**

On his way to breakfast the next morning, O'Bannon noticed a change in the air. Everyone seemed excited by the impending arrival of the contingents from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Heck, he was excited. In a way, it'd be like experiencing three foreign magical schools instead of one. Throw in the Tri-Wizard Tournament on top of it and he had picked one hell of a year to come to Hogwarts.

All the portraits he passed in the corridors appeared to have been thoroughly scrubbed. The suits of armor were gleaming, to the point he could see his reflection in them. In the Great Hall, enormous silk banners hung from the walls, representing each of the Hogwarts Houses. Behind the teachers' table in the front of the room hung the largest banner, which featured the Hogwarts coat of arms.

_Looks like they're really going all-out to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang people._

O'Bannon looked down at his school robes and ran a hand down them to straighten them out. He then rubbed his cheeks and decided he could do with a shave.

Taking out his wand, he pointed it at his face. _"Barba Absentis."_

He heard a crackle and saw a flash of yellow light. Pocketing his wand, he ran a hand over both cheeks. Smooth.

_Oh the joys of being a wizard._

"Making sure you look good for any fit birds from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Lee joked as he walked by.

It took a second for O'Bannon to translate the "Brit-speak." "Fit birds" meant beautiful women.

He looked to Lee and shrugged. "You never know who you're gonna meet."

The day dragged by. Everyone, O'Bannon included, was more interested in their foreign visitors than their classes. The teachers noticed this, too, and didn't make their lessons very hard.

Finally the end of classes came, a half-hour earlier than usual. O'Bannon and the others headed to their rooms to drop off their books and other school supplies. He checked himself in the mirror once last time. His robes looked neat. Had his arms gotten bigger? Cool! All that lifting paid off. Hopefully it would really pay off when it came to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students of the female persuasion.

He joined Fred, George, Lee, Katie, Alicia and Angelina and headed downstairs toward the Great Hall.

"I wonder what they'll be like." Alicia wondered.

"I wonder how many cute boys they're bringing." Katie gave a hopeful smile.

"Who cares about that?" Lee gave her a dismissive wave. "I'm wanna meet some of those Beauxbatons girls. You know what they say about French girls."

"No I don't, Lee." Angelina gave him a scathing look. "Why don't you enlighten us?"

"Um . . . uh, well, you know. They're, um, French. They have, um . . . ways about them, you know?"

Angelina rolled her eyes while Katie and Alicia laughed.

When they reached the Great Hall, the heads of the four Houses – Snape for Slytherin, Flitwick for Ravenclaw, Sprout for Hufflepuff, and McGonagall for Gryffindor – began lining up their students. O'Bannon and his friends fell in line as McGonagall marched back and forth like some Muggle general inspecting his troops.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," she snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

A disappointed Parvati removed a large ornamental butterfly from her hair as McGonagall stomped up to him. O'Bannon braced himself as the old witch gave him a hard, appraising eye. After what seemed an hour, she nodded and moved down the line of Gryffindors.

He let out a sigh of relief.

A couple of minutes later, McGonagall headed to the front of the line. "Follow me, please. First Years in front. No pushing."

They filed down the steps. The Slytherins, unfortunately, were to the left of the Gryffindors. O'Bannon caught sight of Malfoy, and overheard him saying to Pansy Parkinson, "I can't wait to meet the Durmstrang students. My father says that school does it right when it comes to teaching the Dark Arts. They embrace it, rather than try to fight it."

"Malfoy would think that." Fred snorted, apparently overhearing the ferrety little jagoff, too.

O'Bannon narrowed his eyes at Malfoy. Concerns raced through his mind about Durmstrang. Would its students be nothing more than Slytherin clones?

They all lined up in front of the castle. The sun had nearly vanished, and a pale, transparent moon shined over the Forbidden Forest. O'Bannon turned his head from side-to-side, wondering which direction the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would be coming from. For that matter, _how _would they be coming here? He assumed a port key, the same way he came here from the US.

"They're sure taking their own sweet time, aren't they?" commented Fred after a few minutes had gone by.

"Maybe they want to make a dramatic entrance," said Lee. "I guess they -"

"A-ha!" Dumbledore called out from the back row. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Oohs" and "aahs" rippled through the crowd.

"Where are they?" Katie looked all around her. So did many other students.

"Oh!" Lee blurted. "I see them." He pointed in the direction of the forest.

O'Bannon looked and saw a huge silhouette soaring over the trees. His face scrunched up. What the hell was that?

"It's a dragon!" A young girl near the front of the Hufflepuff line screamed.

"Don't be stupid." That sounded like Dennis Creevey. "It's a flying house."

Dennis was kind of right. As the shape got closer to the ground, O'Bannon saw that it was actually a giant, powder-blue carriage, pulled by a dozen golden, winged horses.

"Those must be Abraxans." Alicia pointed to the horses. "Oh, Merlin's beard, they're so beautiful."

Several students near the front jumped back as the horses and carriage landed so hard O'Bannon felt small tremors under his feet. Once they stopped, the door of the carriage swung open. A boy in pale blue robes appeared and unfolded a set of golden steps.

"Blimey," Fred and George blurted together.

"Get a load of her." Lee gawked at the carriage.

"Damn," was all O'Bannon could say when he saw the woman emerge from the carriage. She had olive skin, large dark eyes and was draped in satin robes and gleaming opals.

And she was big. Enormous, actually. As tall as Hagrid. Maybe even taller.

"Now that's a big woman." Seamus Finnigan's Irish brogue reached his ears.

"You can say that again," he muttered to himself.

Dumbledore clapped. The students, following his lead, broke into applause as the giantess approached the Hogwarts headmaster.

"My dear Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Maxime said in a deep, heavily accented voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils." Maxime waved an enormous hand toward the carriage.

Excitement flooded O'Bannon. He ran a hand over his hair one last time as he looked toward the carriage. More than a dozen boys and girls had lined up behind Madam Maxime. All wore blue robes made of fine silk. A few had scarves or shawls around their heads, and they all shivered.

_C'mon, it ain't that cold. _Then again, for a New Englander like O'Bannon, the late October air in Scotland was, at most, nippy.

He scanned the faces of the Beauxbatons students. From what he could see, the girls outnumbered the boys. And the girls all looked hot, especially one about his height with silvery hair and flawless skin. He also noticed something else. All the French witches and wizards stared up at the castle with looks of apprehension.

Except one. A girl, taller than the silvery-haired one, with a smooth, angular face and her blond hair tied in a bun. She seemed to stare at Hogwarts with more curiosity than apprehension.

His eyes lingered on her. Even with her robes, he could tell the girl had an athletic build, one that reminded him of a college volleyball player. Muscular yet distinctly feminine. A smile spread across her face as she continued gazing at the castle. It made her look even more beautiful.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madam Maxime asked. O'Bannon assumed Karkaroff to be the headmaster of Durmstrang.

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore replied. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think. But ze 'orses."

"Our Care if Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other, er, charges."

"Skrewts," O'Bannon heard Ron mutter to Harry Potter. He'd heard about those things. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters that smelled like rotting fish and shot sparks out their asses. Hagrid had the Third, Fourth and Fifth Years working with them. His year, the Sixth, was spared. That did not disappoint O'Bannon one bit.

"My steeds require, er, forceful 'andling," Madam Maxime told Dumbledore. "Zey are very strong."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be up to the job." Dumbledore tacked on a smile.

"Very well. Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses only drink single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to." Dumbledore bowed.

That seemed to satisfy Madam Maxime. She turned to her students. "Come."

O'Bannon backed up with the rest of the Hogwarts students, clearing a path for the boys and girls from Beauxbatons. He noticed many of the guys could not take their eyes off the silver-haired witch, who strutted with her nose so high in the air he felt it needed a red flashing light to keep airplanes from crashing into it. The girl screamed snob.

His gaze moved to the other girl, the tall athletic one. She kept her nose level to the ground as she followed her classmates. A tingle went through his stomach as she neared him.

The girl caught his gaze. O'Bannon tensed. He took a breath and flashed her a smile. She smiled back and gave him a slight nod before striding past him. He continued to stare at her as she walked up the steps and into the castle.

A thought crossed his mind, one he never could have imagined having a month ago.

_I think coming to Hogwarts was the best decision I ever made._

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	13. The Goblet of Fire

**CHAPTER 13: THE GOBLET OF FIRE**

* * *

><p>"So now we have to wait for Durmstrang." George sighed and rocked back and forth on his heels.<p>

O'Bannon folded his arms across his chest, aiming a thoughtful gaze at the ground. He turned around to face his friends. "Is what Malfoy said true? Are they really into the Dark Arts at Durmstrang?"

"That's what I've heard," Angelina answered. "And remember, that's the school Gellert Grindelwald attended."

"And You-Know-Who attended Hogwarts," Fred noted. "But there's still plenty of decent folk here."

"We're living proof of that." George grinned.

"That's debatable," Angelina said.

O'Bannon chuckled. That's when a muffled rumbling and sucking sound carried through the air, like a gigantic vacuum cleaner.

"The lake!" Lee pointed toward it. "Look at the lake!"

O'Bannon's eyes widened as the water bubbled and washed over the muddy banks. A huge whirlpool formed.

_What the hell?_

A black pole rose from the whirlpool. It took a few seconds for him to realize it was a ship's mast.

A wooden sailing ship sprang out of the whirlpool. It reminded him of the _Salem Schooner, _which took him and his classmates to and from the Salem Witches Institute. That is, if the _Salem Schooner _had grown to three times its size and resembled an ancient wreck.

The ship glided to the bank and stopped. A gangplank came down and large shadowy figures walked down it. As they got closer to the castle, O'Bannon realized what made them look so big. They all wore cloaks of shaggy matted fur.

"Dumbledore!" a man in silver furs that matched the color of his hair strode up to the headmaster. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff."

"Dear old Hogwarts." Karkaroff looked up at the castle and smiled, revealing a set of yellow teeth. "How good it is to be here, how good . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth. You don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold."

O'Bannon noticed this Viktor was thin with sallow skin, a prominent nose and thick black eyebrows.

Excited whispers went up all around him. He saw dozens of students turning to one another and pointing to this Viktor.

_What the heck's all that about?_

"No bloody way," Fred said in an awed tone.

"Is that really him?" asked George.

"It can't be. But . . . Merlin's beard! It is him!"

"I didn't think he was still in school."

O'Bannon looked back at the twins. "Who's this 'he' you're talking about?"

Fred and George looked at him as though he'd just called their mother some four-letter word.

"C'mon, Jimmy Boy," Fred said. "Surely you Americans have heard of the greatest Seeker in the world."

He looked at Viktor, then back to Fred. "Something tells me you're not talking about Charlotte Chivero."

"No, though I will admit you Yanks have the sexiest Seeker in the world."

"That, mate," George stepped in. "Is none other than Viktor Krum."

O'Bannon did a double-take. "What? _The _Viktor Krum. The Seeker for the Bulgarian National Team?"

He looked back at Viktor Krum and gaped. He remembered Rana Rollingsworth talking about how excited she was to be able to see him play in person at the Quidditch World Cup.

"If there's a better Seeker in the world than Charlotte Chivero, it's Viktor Krum from Bulgaria," she said to him once. That was high praise coming from Rana, who practically worshipped the Seeker for the Atlanta Archers and the US National Team.

_Oh man, is she gonna be jealous. _Everyone back at Salem was going to be jealous of him. He was going to the same school as Harry Potter _and _Viktor Krum.

He just hoped Krum didn't turn out to be a Dark Arts-loving jagoff like some of the Slytherins seemed to be. That would really suck.

Once the Durmstrang students filed past, the Hogwarts teachers herded everyone back into the castle. Dozens of ecstatic conversations swirled around O'Bannon. The Brits sounded stoked about Viktor Krum being at Hogwarts, no one more so than Ron Weasley.

"I don't believe it! Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione said.

O'Bannon's jaw dropped. What the hell did she just say? Only a Quidditch player? That's like saying Bobby Orr was just a hockey player.

"Dammit," Lee grumbled as he bounced on the soles of his feet. "I can't see Krum any more."

"Neither can I," said Katie, who sounded even more despondent.

"I don't know." The corners of Angelina's mouth twisted. "He's a lot shorter than I expected."

"Oh, most guys are shorter than you Ang," Katie replied. "And who cares if he's short? He's got this . . . aura about him."

"And a rather cute arse." Alicia giggled.

O'Bannon rolled his eyes. What the hell did Viktor Krum's ass matter, expect he used it to sit on his broom.

Now the ass of that tall witch from Beauxbatons . . .

The Hogwarts students entered the Great Hall and went to their appropriate tables. A flash of disappointment went through O'Bannon when the Beauxbatons students sat at the Ravenclaw table. Many of them looked around with glum expressions.

Except the tall, athletic witch. She seemed to study the Great Hall in appreciation.

_Too bad she's not sitting here._

"Over here!" Ron hissed, staring in Krum's direction. "Come sit over here! Hermione, budge up. Make a space."

"What?"

"Too late," Ron said bitterly.

The veins in O'Bannon's neck stuck out as Krum and the other Durmstrang students sat at the Slytherin table. Even worse, Malfoy, who wore a smug expression, leaned over to talk to the Bulgarian Seeker.

"Yeah, that's right." Ron scowled. "Smarm up to him, Malfoy."

"Guy might be a good Seeker," O'Bannon said, "but I can't say much for his taste in people."

Ron whipped his head toward him, looking aghast. "I bet Krum can see right through him. Bet he gets people fawning over him all the time." He turned back to Harry Potter. "Where do you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry. I wouldn't mind giving him my bed. I could kip on a camp bed."

O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow. He leaned toward Fred and George. "Um, your brother. He's, um . . . a big Viktor Krum fan, huh?"

"No," Fred replied. "We're big Viktor Krum fans."

"Ron is more like a crazed fan," George added. "Obsessive, even."

O'Bannon looked from Ron to Krum, then back to Ron. The younger Weasley continued to gawk at the Bulgarian Seeker.

"Why do I see a restraining order in your brother's future?"

"A what?" George gave him a quizzical look.

"It's something Muggle judges give to a person to tell them they can't bother another person or else they'll go to jail."

"Hm." George nodded. "Maybe our Magical Law Council should check into those things, given the adoring looks Ickle Ronniekins' is shooting Viktor Krum."

Once the teachers, along with Madam Maxime and Karkaroff, were seated, the feast began. Along with the usual food, other, more exotic dishes, appeared on the table. Dishes common to France and Bulgaria, he assumed. O'Bannon tried a few, including a shellfish stew called bouillabaisse, according to Hermione. He had three helpings of it. The stuff was better than the best New England Clam Chowder he'd ever had.

"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

O'Bannon looked up. The gorgeous, silvery-haired witch stood near the Gryffindor table, staring at Ron and Harry. Ron's mouth fell open, but instead of talking, he just emitted a faint gurgling sound. Harry, though, offered her his bowl. She picked it up and headed back to the Ravenclaw table, without a "thank you," he noted. Still his eyes swept up and down her body, until she passed by the tall, athletic witch. Then his gaze settled on her.

"She's a veela," Ron whispered hoarsely.

"A veela?" O'Bannon turned to him. "Are you sure?"

Hermione jumped in before Ron could answer. "Of course she isn't. I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot."

_Then you must need glasses. _He saw plenty of other guys in the Great Hall who couldn't keep their eyes off the silvery-haired witch, Lee included. That was one sign that Ron could be right. Veela had an almost hypnotic effect on guys. Understandable since veela could make a woman from any James Bond movie look like the ass-end of a cow.

_So how come I'm not drooling over her?_

"I'm telling you that's not a normal girl," Ron said. They don't make them like that at Hogwarts."

"I beg your pardon." Katie shot Ron a scathing look.

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," Harry said, though he continued to stare at the alleged veela. Or could he be staring at that Asian girl at the Ravenclaw table?

_She's friggin hot, too._

Hermione huffed, her narrowed eyes targeting Harry and Ron. "When you've both put your eyes back in, you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

A perplexed look formed on O'Bannon's face. He turned to the teachers' table, and noticed two newcomers, both men. One had short gray hair, a thin mustache, and looked very, very uptight. The second man was . . .

"Hey, I know that one guy." He pointed to the table. "The guy with the blond hair. I got his card in a Chocolate Frog. Quidditch player, um . . . um."

"Ludo Bagman," both Fred and George said.

"Yeah, that's him. Hey, I wonder if I could get him to autograph my card."

The twins didn't respond. Instead, they stared at Bagman, unsmiling.

_Wonder what their problem is? _O'Bannon looked back at Bagman. The man was a far cry from the image on his trading card. His muscles had turned to fat, most of it concentrated around his stomach. That made O'Bannon grimace. He vowed to make sure he didn't look like that when he got to be Bagman's age.

Following dessert, or pudding as Brits called it, Dumbledore stood and announced, "The moment has come. The Tri-Wizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket."

"Casket?" He looked at the twins. They shook their heads and shrugged.

O'Bannon turned back to Dumbledore, who introduced the two newcomers. Bagman he knew, and recalled from his trading card that he now headed the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Games and Sports. The other guy was Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Both men, Dumbledore acknowledged, had been largely responsible for bringing back the Tri-Wizard Tournament. They would also be part of the panel of judges for the tournament.

Dumbledore turned to the far corner of the Great Hall. "The casket, then, if you please, Mister Filch."

Filch, the grizzled, miserable caretaker of Hogwarts, carried an old wooden chest encrusted with jewels. He laid it on the teachers' table and backed away. O'Bannon found himself leaning forward, along with everyone else around him, staring at the chest as Dumbledore talked about the particulars of the tournament.

"Three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Tri-Wizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector . . . the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore tapped the casket three times with his wand. He reached inside and pulled out a roughly hewn wooden cup.

_That's it? _would have been O'Bannon's thought had the cup not been gushing blue and white flames. The thought he did have was, _How the hell's that thing supposed to pick a champion?_

Dumbledore went on, "Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."

O'Bannon glanced over at Fred and George. Both turned to one another with knowing grins. He wondered if they'd be smiling if they read about some of the past tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament like he had.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore continued. "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

"We'll see about that," Fred muttered.

"Finally." Dumbledore swept a firm gaze over the students. "I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

The students got up from their seats and filed out of the Great Hall.

"An Age Line!" Fred sounded like he was about to burst into laughter. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in the goblet, you're laughing. It can't tell whether you're seventeen or not."

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Hermione pointed out. "We just haven't learned enough."

"Speak for yourself." George sounded offended. He then turned to Harry. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

A doubtful look formed on Harry's face.

"Um, guys." O'Bannon looked at the twins. "I don't wanna be a buzzkill here, but are you really sure you want to do this?"

"'Course we're sure," both Fred and George answered.

"Have you even read about some of the tasks they've had in other Tri-Wizard Tournaments? Those champions fought things like chimeras and acromantulas. You really want to get involved him something like that?"

The twins wrapped their arms around his shoulders. "That's the fun part of it, Jimmy Boy," George said.

"You call fighting chimeras and acromantulas fun?"

"Come on now." Fred grinned at him. "You heard Dumbledore at the start of term. They've taken precautions to make sure no one dies. And the winner gets a thousand galleons. Think of what we could do with all that money."

"Nothing good, in your case," Angelina said.

Fred ignored her. "C'mon, Jimmy Boy. Think about it. If you get in, you'll actually be representing two schools, Hogwarts and Salem. You'll have people proud of you on both sides of the pond. And all it'll take is one drop of an Aging Potion."

O'Bannon snorted and shook his head. "An Aging Potion? Seriously? Back at Salem, we learned how to make that in my Third Year. You really think a wizard like Headmaster Dumbledore won't be prepared for something as simple as that?"

"Brilliance sometimes lies in simplicity," said George.

O'Bannon rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You know what? If you two morons actually pull this off, then I will take a sip of your Aging Potion and put my name in the goblet. Okay?"

"Shake on it?" said Fred.

He shook Fred's hand, then George's, confident that there was no way the goblet would ever see the name Jimmy O'Bannon.

**XXXXX**

The next morning, many of the Gryffindors headed down to breakfast earlier than usual for a Saturday. O'Bannon was one of them. He, like most everyone else, wanted to see who would put their name into the goblet. When he got to the entrance hall, around twenty people stood around the Goblet of Fire, which had been placed on the same stool the Sorting Hat had been on his first night at Hogwarts. He also noticed a golden circle traced on the floor around the stool. It had to be the Age Line.

Movement beyond the goblet caught his eye. He drew a deep breath when he saw the tall, athletic witch from Beauxbatons. She paused, staring down at a tiny piece of parchment in her hand. Squaring her shoulders, she strode up to the goblet and dropped the parchment into it. Several of the students followed her with their heads as she walked toward the Great Hall. When she passed O'Bannon, their gazes met. He flashed her a quick smile. A tingle went through his chest as she did the same before going into the Great Hall.

Laughter erupted behind him. He turned around and saw Fred, George and Lee bounding down the staircase, all three extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said as he neared Harry, Ron and Hermione, who stood just a few feet away. "Just taken it."

"What?" asked Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," Fred snapped.

"One drop each." George rubbed his hands together. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins." Lee grinned before turning toward him. "Or four ways if you put your name in, Jimmy."

"Yeah, we'll see," he scoffed.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," Hermione warned them. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

"Exactly what I told you guys last night after dinner," O'Bannon said.

Fred, George and Lee ignored them.

"Ready?" Fred looked at the other two, who were practically jumping with anticipation. "C'mon, then. I'll go first."

O'Bannon watched Fred pull a piece of parchment from his pocket. He then walked right up to the edge of the Age Line and paused.

_I wonder what'll happen when he crosses it._

Fred took a deep breath and jumped over the line.

Nothing happened.

O'Bannon felt his stomach collapse. A chill went up his spine. _Oh crap. Oh crap, you gotta be kidding me!_

George let out a triumphant yell and jumped over the Age Line as well. O'Bannon just stared at them, frozen. Merlin's beard, it worked! That meant . . .

He swallowed. His father's voice echoed in his mind with a piece of advice he'd given him over and over and over again.

"_Don't let your mouth write a check your body can't cash."_

If he ever needed to pay attention to that advice, now was the –

A loud sizzling sound came from the goblet.

"Whoa!" O'Bannon jumped back as Fred and George flew out of the circle like they'd been shot from a cannon. They crashed onto the stone floor and rolled a fair distance.

"Holy friggin' crap!" He gaped at the twins as they slowly sat up. That's when he heard a popping sound. Long white beards sprouted over Fred and George's faces.

O'Bannon doubled over, shaking with laughter. Everyone in the entrance hall joined in, including Lee, Harry, Ron and Hermione. Even Fred and George started laughing as they compared one another's beards.

"I did warn you," a deep, amused voice came from the entrance to the Great Hall.

O'Bannon, still howling with laughter, turned to find Headmaster Dumbledore staring at the twins. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mister Summers of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little, too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

O'Bannon completely lost it. He fell against the wall in hysterics. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Fred and George heading off to the hospital wing. Lee trailed them, convulsing with laughter.

After taking a few, wheezing breaths, he called to the twins. "Yo, Fred. George. I think I'll take a pass on that Aging Potion, thank you very much."

The twins looked back at him, smiled and shook their heads.

"A wise decision, Mister O'Bannon," Dumbledore said before he disappeared into the Great Hall.

Harry, Ron and Hermione also went in, all of them laughing. O'Bannon leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths and rubbing his sides, which really hurt.

_Oh my God, that was the funniest things I've ever seen._

It took a few minutes to get himself back under control. He started toward the Great Hall when he saw Angelina Johnson approach.

"Mornin', Ang. You just missed it. Fred and George tried to put their names in and -"

"And wound up with long beards? I know." She smirked at him. "I passed them in the corridor. Imbeciles. Luckily, I don't have to worry about that." She held up a piece of parchment with her name on it.

"You're gonna enter?"

"I did turn seventeen last week, remember?"

O'Bannon did remember. They'd had a little celebration for her in the twins' room. He still couldn't get over of-age wizards and witches being in Sixth Year. As Angelina explained to him at the party, you couldn't enter Hogwarts until you had turned eleven. Even if you were ten and your birthday fell the day after the start of the school year, you'd have to wait until next year to attend Hogwarts. That wasn't the case at Salem, where so long as you turned eleven during the course of the school year, you could go.

He watched Angelina walk up to the goblet and drop her name into it. Many of the students hanging around the entrance hall cheered and clapped.

"Go, Ang!" He held up his hand, which Angelina slapped. "Best of luck to you."

"Thanks, Jimmy."

They both entered the Great Hall, with Jimmy announcing, "Make way for the Hogwarts champion! Make way!"

"Shut up!" Angelina shoved him, though she wore a big smile.

"What are you on about?" Ron looked up at them.

They sat next to him, Angelina saying, "I've done it! I just put my name in."

"You're kidding!" Ron blurted.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry.

"'Course she is," said Ron. "Can't see a beard, can you?"

"I had my birthday last week."

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," Hermione said with pride in her voice. "I really hope you get it, Angelina."

"Thanks, Hermione."

"If you do get it, just be careful," O'Bannon warned. "Who the hell knows what kind of tasks you're gonna have to do."

"Don't worry, Jimmy. I know how to take care of myself."

He didn't doubt that. In some ways, Angelina reminded him of Rosa. Attractive, but tough.

"Well better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," Seamus said, causing a few passing Hufflepuffs to scowl at him.

"Who's this 'Pretty-Boy' Diggory?"

Seamus twisted himself around and pointed at the Hufflepuff table. "Over there. Bloke with the fair hair and oh-so-white teeth."

O'Bannon spotted the boy Seamus described, talking to a few other Hufflepuff guys. A few girls hovered nearby, wearing dreamy expressions.

"Bloody golden boy of Hogwarts." Ron jerked his head toward Diggory. "We all had to port key to the World Cup with him and his dad. He kept going on about how Cedric beat Harry last year in Quidditch. Captain of the Hufflepuff team, he is."

"They got lucky," Seamus snapped. "No way they would've won if Harry hadn'ta fallen off his broom."

O'Bannon continued staring at Cedric Diggory, watching him laugh. A couple seconds later all the girls around him laughed as well.

He shook his head. He prayed the goblet didn't pick this Diggory guy. His looks, the air about him. It reminded O'Bannon of a character from some 80's teen movie, the one who came from the rich family, drove the cool car, was captain of some sports team, dated the head cheerleader.

And acted like a conceited, bullying asshole.

_Yeah, I'll definitely be pulling for Angelina here._

He reached over and grabbed a piece of toast. He just started spreading marmalade on it when an owl swooped down and dropped an envelope in front of him. After putting his toast and knife down, he opened it and read the note inside.

"Well I'll be damned."

"What is it?" Angelina asked.

"Check this out." He showed her the letter.

_Dear Mr. O'Bannon,_

_Please meet me in my office this evening, an hour before the Halloween feast. I'd like to talk to you about showing this howl-kay game to my class._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Burbage_

_Muggle Studies Teacher_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	14. The Champions

**CHAPTER 14: THE CHAMPIONS**

* * *

><p>The day seemed to drag by. O'Bannon kept looking at his watch or the clock on his desk, wishing for dinner time to get here. Even though he wondered what motivated someone to put their name in the Goblet of Fire, he was still anxious to see who'd be picked. He'd root for Angelina to get it for Hogwarts. She appeared capable of handling herself in a tournament like this, more than Fred and George.<p>

That made him wonder if he could handle himself in something like the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He'd always done very well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Care of Magical Creatures. All that knowledge and skill would certainly come in handy in a tournament like this.

_Of course, if one of the tasks is to make a potion, I'm screwed._

O'Bannon put it out of his mind. He wouldn't be in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He doubted he'd ever be in any serious life-threatening situation, period.

_I'm a hockey player, not an auror._

He caught up on his homework, did some lifting, showered and wrote a few letters. The first was to his parents, emphasizing that life had vastly improved for him at Hogwarts. He wanted to write about Viktor Krum being here, but didn't think that would mean anything to his Muggle parents.

He did mention it in his letter to Rosa, Jared and Artimus, and made sure to tell them to let Rana, and the other Quidditch players at Salem, know about it.

_They are so gonna hate me._

O'Bannon also decided to write Rosa's parents, as well as Jared's. He'd stayed over both their houses so many times he considered them like family. Along with telling them about playing hockey with some of the Gryffindors, the Tri-Wizard Tournament and actually talking to Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, he mentioned he hadn't heard of any more Death Eater activity. Their ruckus at the Quidditch World Cup seemed like a distant memory. And why not? Death Eaters reminded him of the Wizarding World's version of Hitler's SS. If the best they could do nowadays was burn some tents and levitate some people, why should anyone be worried about them?

O'Bannon gave the letters to Espo and sent him off on his long journey to America. He headed down to the common room and discovered Fred and George had returned from the hospital wing. They no longer had beards, but some patches of white stubble remained on their cheeks.

"Aw, you got rid of the beards. What were you thinking? I bet those French witches love teenage boys with the beards of eighty-year-old men." He chuckled at his joke.

Fred slapped a hand over his heart and gasped. "Oh good one, Jimmy. Took the mickey right out of me, you did."

O'Bannon furrowed his brow. _"Took the mickey out of me?" _He guessed that had to be Brit-speak for making fun of someone.

_And here I thought I didn't have to learn the language coming to Britain._

"I wouldn't mind having a go at one of those French witches," said Lee.

"Or, for you, any witch that'd give you the time of day." George grinned at him.

"Sod off." Lee scowled at him briefly, then said. "Oy, what about the one with the silver hair? I think your brother's right. She's got to be a veela."

"Ron right?" Fred look stunned. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

"Well," O'Bannon tilted his head. "She is a super mega-hot babe, but she kinda strikes me as a snob."

"Who cares if she's a snob?" Lee shot back. "She's bloody gorgeous."

"You should try to get a picture with her, Jimmy Boy," Fred suggested. "Send it to your ex-girlfriend back in The States. She'll go barmy seeing the kind of witches you're with here."

O'Bannon bobbed his head from side-to-side. That was actually a wicked cool idea. Had he been any kind of vindictive bastard, he would have done it.

He hung with Fred, George and Lee for a few more minutes before he looked at his watch and realized it was almost time for his meeting with Professor Burbage. Luckily, she had her office on the first floor, so it didn't take him long to get there. The placard on the door resembled a Muggle street sign and read CHARITY BURBAGE: MUGGLE STUDIES PROFESSOR.

He knocked. A muffled voice behind the door said, "Enter."

He opened the door and walked inside, halting after just a few steps. With wide eyes he scanned the office. The place looked like someone had moved a yard sale indoors. Tables and desks stacked with all sorts of Muggle items crowded the office. One table displayed ballpoint pens and magic markers. Another had a baby's rattle and an old "Space Invaders" handheld video game. A shelf to his left had several board games. Some he recognized, like "Battleship" and "Axis and Allies." Others, like "Beetle Drive" and "Tinner's Trail," he'd never heard of before.

Posters plastered the walls. Most were for movies, including _You Only Live Twice – _one of his favorite James Bond movies – and the Bruce Lee classic _Enter the Dragon. _He moved toward the front of the room, still looking at the Professor's collection of Muggle items. A T-shirt at one table caught his eye. It had a blue and white roundel with gold trim and the name CHELSEA FOOTBALL CLUB. Inside it was a lion holding a staff. A stack of vinyl records had been piled beside the shirt. He stopped when he noticed the cover of the one on top. It showed a black and white rendering of the _Hindenburg _going down in flames.

"Whoa." He stepped over to it.

"Something caught your eye?" asked the squat, blond woman sitting behind a battered wooden desk.

"Yeah." O'Bannon pointed to the record. "That's Led Zeppelin One. 'Babe I'm Gonna Leave You,' 'Communications Breakdown.' Classics."

"Mm. I actually saw them when I was a young girl."

His jaw dropped. "You saw Zeppelin in concert?" For a second, he felt like bowing to this woman. Led Zeppelin had broken up before he was even born.

"Yes, in Birmingham. Snuck out of my house to see them. Had a devil of a time figuring out Muggle transportation, but I managed. I'd never heard anything so loud in my life. But it was wonderful. Though there was this strange odor present during the entire concert. Made me feel rather dizzy."

"Uhhh . . ." O'Bannon wondered if he should fill her in on that unsavory part of Muggle life. "Um, oh! I'm Jimmy O'Bannon. You wanted to see me?"

Professor Burbage's face lit up. "Oh yes, Mister O'Bannon. Professor Burbage, Muggle Studies. A pleasure to meet you."

"Thanks," he replied as they shook hands.

"Please, have a seat." Burbage pointed him to the chair in front of her desk. A lawn chair, of all things. He shrugged and sat down.

"So." Burbage clasped her hands together and leaned forward. "Professor Dumbledore has told me you've been teaching some of our students a Muggle sport called, um, _howl-kay, _I believe?"

"Hockey."

"Hockey, yes, yes. Professor Dumbledore said it's a bit like Quidditch, but on ice. Is that right?"

"Yeah, pretty much." O'Bannon ran down the basics of hockey, along with some of its history. He took note of the fascinated expression on Professor Burbage's face.

"Ah, I can see why wizards might enjoy a game like that. It sounds very fast-paced. A few years ago I arranged a demonstration of football. It didn't go so well. Most of my students were utterly bored by it."

O'Bannon just nodded. Even he found soccer boring. Not that he'd ever say that here in Britain. They'd probably run him out of the country if he did.

"But that's always been an issue for me in this class," Burbage continued. "For students who've grown up in the Wizarding World and have been exposed to Quidditch and Exploding Snap, how interesting can football or one of those board games you noticed be to them? No one flies in football. Nothing explodes in Beetle Drive. They're just . . . there."

Burbage drew a deep breath. "I keep trying to find Muggle things that I think pureblood witches and wizards will find fascinating, even enjoyable. Most importantly, I wish to show them that, other than the magic we wield, we're not so different from Muggles. There are so many things that they have to offer our world, and we will be richer for it." She lowered her eyes to her desk, distress flashing over her face. "I remember what it was like during The War."

O'Bannon didn't even ask which war she meant. For anyone Professor Burbage's age, there was only one war, the one against Lord Voldemort.

She went on. "Muggles and Muggle-borns suffered greatly at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his forces. It is my hope that giving our students here a greater understanding of Muggle culture will help prevent such tragedies in the future."

He slid toward the edge of his chair, eagerness flowing through him. "You know something, Professor? I've had thoughts like that before. I mean, Salem's pretty good when it comes to recognizing Muggle stuff. But there are still kids there who think any kind of Muggle thing is a waste of time, like our hockey league."

Burbage's jaw dropped. "Are you telling me there's a school of magic that has actually organized a Muggle sport?"

"Yeah. A couple of Muggle-borns formed the league back in the 1950s. It's still going strong."

Burbage's smile grew by the second. "Oh, if only something like that could happen here at Hogwarts. Not only would it promote a better understanding of Muggles, but it would give those not on their House Quidditch teams a chance to participate in sport. Not that I think that will ever happen here. Still, if all we can manage is a demonstration of this game of yours, at least it will be something. Would you do this for me, Mister O'Bannon?"

"Sure I will, Professor."

"Oh, smashing!" Burbage clapped her hands together. She then grabbed a leather-bound book, opened it, and scanned one of the pages. "Hm, let's see. I'd want all my classes to see this, but doing it during a regular school day would be impractical, since you'd be in class, too." She stared off to the right in thought, then grabbed a quill, dipped it into an ink bottle, and started writing. "How about I cancel regular classes, not this coming week, but the next, and instead do one large class on . . . Wednesday the Eleventh at three-thirty. Do you think you'll have enough hockey things to demonstrate and talk about for, oh, say an hour?"

"Heck, yeah." He could talk hockey for several hours, let alone just one.

"Splendid, splendid." She wrote furiously in the book, her lesson planner, O'Bannon figured. "And Professor McGonagall is the one who sends updates about your time here to your head at Salem, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll make sure to let her know about this, um, extracurricular activity of yours. I'm sure your head will be pleased to know what sort of contribution you're making in the field of Wizarding/Muggle relations."

"Wow. Thanks, Professor."

"No, thank you, Mister O'Bannon. Oh, and ten points to Gryffindor for agreeing to this. Should your hockey demonstration go well, I'll award you an additional twenty points, and twenty for any of your friends who help you with it."

Elation swept through O'Bannon. Ten points! Just for saying yes. And if he got Fred and George and the others to help out, Gryffindor could get a ton of points. That would really help make up for all the points he cost his house his first few weeks here.

He thanked Professor Burbage again before leaving her office and strutted toward the Great Hall. Man, he wished there were more witches like her, who took a real interest in the Muggle World, enough to want to demonstrate a sport like hockey. He also thought about her comments about some wizards and witches thinking Muggles had nothing to offer this world. O'Bannon thought with all the Muggle-borns that had entered the Wizarding World over the centuries, such attitudes would have changed. Unfortunately, many Muggle-borns became so enamored by magic they completely turned their backs on their roots. He'd be the first to admit, it was wicked cool to be able to turn a rock into a toad and form a force field with his wand. And he enjoyed Quidditch as much as any wizard. But that didn't mean he thought any less of hockey, baseball, or a number of other Muggle activities. So anything he could do to give magical people a better understanding of Muggles, he was all for it. Not that he thought a pick-up game of hockey would change the world, but at least he could make some small contribution.

O'Bannon walked into the Great Hall, decorated for Halloween with hundreds of jack-o-lanterns stretching from one end to the other, and live bats fluttering around the ceiling. A pang of disappointment went through him. Back at Salem, today would be the big Halloween dance, with the students following Muggle tradition by dressing in costume. He'd miss that this year, darn it. But at least Halloween here had its own excitement. The naming of the Tri-Wizard champions.

He headed over to where Fred, George and the others sat.

"So how did things go with Professor Burbage?" Fred asked.

O'Bannon ran down how she wanted him to put on a demonstration of hockey for all her Muggle Studies students.

"And anyone who helps me with it, it's twenty points each for Gryffindor."

Excited gasps and shouts rose from them. Alicia counted on her fingers. "You, me, Fred, George, Ang, Katie, Lee, Ginny, the Creeveys." Her jaw nearly hit the floor. "Bloody hell, that's two hundred points we can earn Gryffindor."

"Count us in," George said, with everyone else nodding.

"Imagine that." Fred grinned. "We're going to be like teachers. We'll have a chance to shape the minds of young witches and wizards."

"Oh God help us all." Katie rubbed her temples.

Everyone laughed as they dug in, or "tucked in" as the Brits tended to say.

The Halloween feast was awesome, complete with roast goose and roast lamb. Despite the great food, O'Bannon noticed everyone rushing through the meals, anxious to be done and hear the announcement of the champions. The only exception was Angelina, who just nibbled at her food. She probably felt both nervous and excited, like he did before his very first hockey game at Salem.

O'Bannon managed to wolf down three roly-polies – including wild berry, his favorite - before all the food on the table vanished and the golden plates suddenly became spotless. All conversations faded to silence. Everyone looked to the teachers' table, where Headmaster Dumbledore rose to his feet.

_This is it. _O'Bannon started bouncing in his seat.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," announced Dumbledore, who was flanked by Madam Maxime and Karkaroff. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he pointed to the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore waved his wand about him. All the candles in the room, except those in the jack-o-lanterns, were extinguished, plunging the Great Hall into semi-darkness. The blue flames gushing from the Goblet of Fire, now standing at the teachers' table, burned even brighter. O'Bannon waited for something to happen. Waited . . . waited . . .

"Any second," Lee muttered nearby.

The flames in the goblet turned red. Sparks burst from it, followed by a great tongue of flame. "Oohs" and "ahs" filled the Great Hall, along with a "wicked pissah" from him. A charred piece of parchment fluttered out of the goblet. Dumbledore caught it and held it up to his bearded face. O'Bannon held his breath.

"The champion from Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

Applause thundered through the Great Hall as Krum stood and headed toward the teachers' table.

"No surprise there!" he heard Ron yell, and had to agree with him. The guy was one of the greatest Seekers in the world, if not the greatest.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff hollered loud enough for everyone to hear. "Knew you had it in you!"

When Krum exited the Great Hall, a second piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. Dumbledore grabbed it.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

O'Bannon's gaze immediately went to the Ravenclaw table, to the tall, athletic witch. She remained in her seat, her head hanging in disappointment. But the silver-haired witch, the one Ron thought to be a veela, shook back her hair and practically glided up to the teachers' table. He noticed a couple other Beauxbatons girls convulsing with sobs.

"This is it." Alicia grabbed hold of Angelina's shoulders. "This is it."

Katie also clamped her hands on Angelina, who sat frozen in her seat, her eyes locked on goblet.

"You got this, Ang," said Fred.

"Definitely," George added.

A third piece of parchment shot out of the goblet.

"Get ready, Ang," Lee said as both Alicia and Katie gasped.

"It's all you, Ang," O'Bannon chimed in.

Dumbledore read from the final piece of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion . . ."

O'Bannon tensed, ready to congratulate Angelina.

". . . is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table exploded in cheers and applause. O'Bannon groaned and dropped his head. _I can't believe the pretty boy got it. Stupid-ass goblet._

He looked over at Angelina, who slumped in her seat and shook her head. Alicia and Katie hugged her, while he patted her on the back, along with Fred, George and Lee.

"Tough break, Ang," Fred told her. "You would've made a great champion."

"No doubt," Lee chipped in.

"Yeah, you got hosed by that thing," O'Bannon told her.

Angelina turned around, giving them a brave smile. "Thank, guys."

"Cedric Diggory." George scowled. "Bloody unbelievable."

"His head'll swell bigger than ever," said an unsmiling Lee. "He'll be insufferable."

Fred emitted a sardonic laugh. "Bet his dad'll petition the Ministry to make this a national holiday."

"Well," Dumbledore started. "We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"

A huge red flame rose from the goblet, cutting off Dumbledore. Another piece of parchment fluttered out of it.

"What the hell?" O'Bannon looked around at the others. "I thought we were done."

Everyone else appeared just as confused as him. Including Dumbledore, who took the parchment and stared at it. An eternity passed before Dumbledore cleared his throat and uttered a single name.

"Harry Potter."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	15. The Hero and The Boy

**CHAPTER 15: THE HERO AND THE BOY**

* * *

><p>All eyes, including O'Bannon's, turned to Harry Potter. The boy just sat there frozen, staring straight ahead. Dozens of whispered conversations rippled through the Great Hall.<p>

"How did he do it?" Katie muttered.

O'Bannon wondered that, too, as he continued to stare at Harry. How did he defeat the Age Line when Fred and George couldn't? How did he fool the goblet into picking another champion from Hogwarts?

Finally Harry turned his head, almost in slow motion, and looked to Ron and Hermione. "I didn't put my name in," he said in a flat tone. "You know I didn't."

Neither Ron nor Hermione answered. No one around O'Bannon said anything. They all just gaped at Harry.

"Harry Potter!" someone called out. It took O'Bannon a second to realize the voice belong to Headmaster Dumbledore. He switched his gaze from Harry to the teachers' table. McGonagall's, Flitwick's and Burbage's expressions ranged from shocked to worried. Crouch seemed confused. Karkaroff scowled, his yellow teeth blazing. Snape . . . looked the same as he always did. Miserable.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on." Hermione gave Harry a slight push. He slowly got to his feet and accidentally stepped on the bottom of his robes, stumbling. No one laughed. Harry, with an unsure look on his face, walked up to the teachers' table. O'Bannon noticed many angry sets of eyes from the Hufflepuff table following him. When he reached Dumbledore, the headmaster directed him through the same door Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory had entered earlier. Dumbledore then huddled with the heads of the other schools, a few teachers, and the Ministry officials, before they all went into the ante-chamber.

The Great Hall erupted in loud voices. Most of them asked how Harry Potter could have gotten into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Dean Thomas and Alicia Spinnet were among them.

"He shouldn't have," Hermione said. "He shouldn't have got past the Age Line. There's no way he should have been able to make the goblet pick two champions for Hogwarts."

"Well obviously he did," Lee responded. "I'd like to know how he did it."

"Well, um, he is Harry Potter, after all," O'Bannon offered. "I mean, he offed You-Know-Who when he was a baby, so what's a friggin' Goblet of Fire to a guy like that?"

Several of the Gryffindors gave him odd expressions, except Hermione. She just scowled at him. O'Bannon grimaced, suddenly feeling kind of stupid.

"You couldn't stand to let Hufflepuff have its moment, could you?" hollered a tall, blond boy at the Hufflepuff table. "It always has to be about Gryffindor."

"Like Harry Potter isn't famous enough, already." A short brunette with a pinched face glared at them. "What, he can't handle someone else having a bit of fame?"

"Cedric Diggory's the real Hogwarts champion!" shouted another Hufflepuff. "Not Potter!"

"Hufflepuff is going to represent Hogwarts in this tournament," declared yet another member of that House. "Not Gryffindor!"

"Wasn't it you lot who were thick enough to believe Harry was the Heir of Slytherin two years ago?" Seamus fired back. "You really think we want one of you Hufflepuff tossers representing Hogwarts?"

Three-quarters of the Hufflepuff table jumped to their feet and screamed insults and accusations and anatomical impossibilities. Practically everyone at the Gryffindor table sprang out of their seats and did the same.

Except for Ron and Hermione . . . and O'Bannon.

He looked around at his enraged housemates. A guilty feeling built up inside him. He thought about some of the bench-clearing brawls he'd seen between his Red Sox and the hated New York Yankees. If he were on the Sox, would he just sit on the bench while the rest of his team duked it out with those pinstriped jagoffs?

Gryffindor, for all intents and purposes, was his team now. Their honor had been challenged. Did he just sit back and let other people fight, or . . .

He shot to his feet. "At least we have a champion who did something important, not one who spends half the day in front of a mirror!"

The ruckus continued. O'Bannon noticed more than a few Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs edging closer to each other. If fists or hexes started flying, he'd jump over the table and –

A bright red comet streaked over the Great Hall and exploded into hundreds of sparks. Several students let out screams and gasps of surprise.

"ENOUGH!"

All eyes turned to little Professor Flitwick, who had his wand raised in the air. Next to him stood a crimson-faced Professor Sprout.

"This is a historic moment for the entire Wizarding World," Flitwick's already squeaky voice went up several, angry octaves. "I will not have it ruined by two of our Houses acting like five-year-olds throwing a fit!"

"I am absolutely appalled by your behavior, especially Hufflepuff!" Sprout glowered at the students of her House.

A surreal feeling came over O'Bannon. Flitwick and Sprout were such cheery people. To see them so pissed off looked unnatural.

"These are not the traits that Hufflepuff House espouses," Sprout continued. "I expect better from you, especially as a member of our House is the Tri-Wizard Champion for Hogwarts."

"One of 'em," Lee said.

"Five points from Gryffindor!" Sprout thrust a pudgy finger in Lee's direction. "And not another word from you, Mister Jordan, or it will be detention for you."

Lee narrowed his eyes at the Herbology teacher.

"Everyone, back to your Houses, now!" Flitwick ordered. "Move along. I said move along!"

Sprout, Flitwick and the other teachers followed the students out of the Great Hall to make sure no one caused any trouble. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs glared at one another before heading their separate ways.

"Bloody gits," Fred grumbled as they headed up the marble staircase toward Gryffindor Tower.

"At least we know the Puffs have a little backbone," George noted.

Seamus scoffed. "We would have kicked their arses!"

"Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick were right," said Hermione. "There was no call for such an outburst."

Many of the Gryffindors glared at her.

"Kiss-ass," O'Bannon whispered as he followed his Housemates through the portrait hole. When everyone was inside, Lee jumped up on a couch and shouted, "Oy! Quit looking so glum. Forget those stupid Puffs and Pretty Boy Diggory. Gryffindor's got a Tri-Wizard champion."

"But how did Potter get his name in the goblet?" someone asked. "It's all a bit dodgy."

"Potter broke the rules, pure and simple." That was Simon Hurst. "He should not be allowed to compete."

"But you heard Professor Dumbledore," said Angelina. "This is a magical contract. Harry has to follow through."

O'Bannon recalled some of the stuff he learned from History of Magic class on magical contracts. They were nothing like contracts in the Muggle World. You couldn't tear it up. You couldn't renegotiate it like pro athletes sometimes did. Once you made the deal, that was that. If you tried to back out of it, the consequences could be . . . well, unpleasant would be an understatement.

"Ang is right!" Lee pointed at her. "However it happened, Gryffindor's in this thing. It's time to celebrate!"

"Here, here!" both Fred and George said.

"Yeah, Harry Potter! Tri-Wizard Champion for Hogwarts!" Katie cheered and pumped her fist.

"Harry'll run circles around that wanker Diggory," Seamus added.

Soon almost everyone in the common room cheered, chanting, "Potter! Potter!" or "Go, Go, Gryffindor!" O'Bannon founded himself caught up in the euphoria.

Fred, George and Lee hurried through the portrait hole. About twenty minutes later, they returned with armfuls of food and drink.

"Where did you get all that?" O'Bannon asked as they laid it all out on one of the tables.

"Snuck into the kitchens, of course," George said. "All you have to do is ask the House Elves and they'll be glad to give you anything."

People started picking up bottles of butterbeer and handfuls of crisps and candies when a short, dark-haired figure crawled through the portrait hole and into the common room. The noise the Gryffindors made rivaled that of a sellout crowd at Boston Garden after a Bruins goal. Students slapped Harry on the back or hugged him.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred, who looked half-annoyed and half-impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard?" George wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Brilliant!"

"I didn't," Harry protested. "I don't know how -"

He was cut off when Angelina swooped down and threw her arms around him. "Oh, if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor."

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" Katie shrieked.

"Dude, you're gonna be a way better champion than Pretty Boy." O'Bannon held up his hand. Harry stared at it, frowned, then gave him a high-five. Not that he put much behind it.

People swirled around Harry Potter, constantly offering him butterbeer and food. At one point, Lee Jordan hauled out a red and gold Gryffindor banner and tried to drape it around Harry like a cloak. O'Bannon raised an eyebrow when he noticed Harry sprint away.

The Gryffindors kept after him about how he fooled the goblet. Every time he denied it, and it looked like he grew angrier with each denial.

O'Bannon sipped his butterbeer, watching Harry with growing curiosity. Why wouldn't he tell anyone how he duped the Goblet of Fire? His Housemates were applauding him, supporting him. No one seemed to mind Fred and George trying to cheat their way into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He couldn't understand why Harry would keep it to himself.

He also wondered something else. If Harry did cheat to enter the tournament, shouldn't he be happier that he'd been chosen?

**XXXXX**

Over the next few days, O'Bannon got a real education on the whole House rivalry thing at Hogwarts. Every time he or his friends passed any Hufflepuff in the corridors, harsh glares were exchanged. A couple times he swore one or two Puffs looked ready to pull out their wands and cast a barrage of hexes. During every meal, a thick wall of tension went up between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. One time, on his way to Transfiguration, the tall, blond boy who whined about Hufflepuff not getting their glory shouted in his face, "Diggory's the real champion! Potter doesn't have a chance!"

"Your face ain't gonna have a chance against my fist if you yell at me again!"

Angelina and Alicia both grasped his arm and guided him away from the Hufflepuff jagoff, though both girls shot him harsh glares.

Even Professor Sprout's demeanor changed in Herbology class. The usually jovial teacher acted very distant toward the Gryffindors.

While he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his fellow Gryffindors in this sort of Cold War, part of him felt bad about the whole thing. He'd come very close to being sorted into Hufflepuff. At times, he wondered what life would be like at Hogwarts had he been sorted into that House. Would his first month here have been miserable? Would anyone there be playing hockey with him? Would he be going around shouting at Gryffindors that Cedric Diggory was the real champion?

O'Bannon tried to push those thoughts out of his head. He could play what if all day and it wouldn't matter. He hadn't been sorted into Hufflepuff. The hat put him in Gryffindor. That's the way it was, period, end of sentence.

Thankfully, there were times when the whole Gryffindor/Hufflepuff conflict didn't even cross his mind. That happened when he thought about his upcoming hockey demonstration for the Muggle Studies class. The Friday after Halloween, he was jogging around the grounds just when the sun started coming up. Ideas flashed through his mind. What parts of the game should he cover? How much of the history of hockey should he bring up? How long should he talk? Heck, how long did he want to talk when he had the opportunity to show the class an actual game?

_And how would a game go? _Their pick-up games didn't come close to matching the intensity of the games he'd played back at Salem. He didn't think just skating back and forth and taking a shot at the net would excite the Muggle Studies class. They'd all have to pick it up. He figured Fred, George and Katie could do it. They'd all gotten better at the basics of hockey over the past few weeks. Angelina and Ginny had come to the party late, but they learned quickly. Lee, at best, was okay in net. The Creeveys . . . well, nothing could help them. They didn't have an athletic bone in their bodies.

He started to wonder if he could pull this off as he reached the steps of the castle. He went inside and headed up to Gryffindor Tower.

"_Baal-daa-dash_," he gave the password to the Fat Lady's portrait.

"It's Bal-der-dash," The Fat Lady corrected him as her portrait swung open.

O'Bannon rolled his eyes. She'd been "correcting" him on that word for two friggin' months, already. When was she going to give up?

The common room was deserted except for one figure who sat on a couch, head down, shoulders slumped.

It was Harry Potter. The champion looked up at him, unsmiling.

"Uh . . . hey, Harry."

"Jimmy," Harry muttered and went back to staring at his lap.

O'Bannon took a couple steps toward the staircase, then stopped, looking back at Harry. He thought back to Halloween, what he'd said after Harry had been selected as Hogwarts' second champion, that he'd got in because, well, he's Harry Potter.

Ever since he first learned the story of Harry's defeat of Lord Voldemort, O'Bannon always thought of him as this larger-than-life hero.

Right here, right now, Harry Potter did not look larger-than-life. He did not look heroic. He didn't even look like someone who wanted to be in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Instead, he looked like a worried and depressed 14-year-old boy

"Uh . . . yo, Harry."

Harry looked up at him.

"Um . . . I just wanted to say that I believe you when you say you didn't put your name in the Goblet of Fire."

Harry straightened up, his eyes widening. His face seemed to brighten as a smile briefly crossed his lips. "Thanks, Jimmy. I'm glad you believe me."

"Yeah, no prob. You watch your ass in that tournament, okay?"

"I will. Thanks."

O'Bannon smiled and headed upstairs to take a shower. He realized that he didn't have this feeling of awe like he usually did whenever he talked to Harry Potter. In fact, he thought that feeling ridiculous. Sure, Harry was a hero to the Wizarding World. He'd always be a hero.

But, O'Bannon learned, heroes were real people, too. Or, in this case, a real 14-year-old boy.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	16. Hockey and Hogwarts

**CHAPTER 16: HOCKEY AND HOGWARTS**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon woke up the morning of Wednesday the 11th excited and nervous. Today was the day of his hockey presentation to the entire Muggle Studies class. Numerous thoughts flooded his mind as he put on his sweats for his morning run. Would he do a good job? Would he bore the class? Were Fred and George and the rest up to putting on a good demonstration?<p>

_Do I really know what I'm getting into?_

He set out across the campus, going over the lesson plan in his head. He'd originally wanted to keep it simple, stick to fundamentals. But how exciting would that be? As big a hockey fan as he was, he knew he'd be bored to tears watching two teams just skate up and down the ice and take a shot.

_Can they take it up notch?_

_Do we have a choice if we want to make this work?_

Fred, George, Katie and Angelina should be able to do it. They were Quidditch players, after all. Dean and Seamus might be able to handle it. They had only joined their little hockey group last week to help earn Gryffindor more points, but both looked pretty athletic. Dean also had good size on him, and Seamus . . . well, what Irishman didn't like to mix it up?

He wouldn't have to worry about Lee and Colin since he'd be in net. But he doubted Ginny and Dennis could hold up if things got physical.

O'Bannon returned to the castle and went up the steps, sweating and breathing heavy. He stepped into the entrance hall and saw three figures approaching, one thin, the other two large.

_Aw crap._

"Been out running, Yank?" Malfoy smirked at him. "Maybe you should take Potter with you. He could use practice running away, since he'll be doing it a lot in the Tournament."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed.

"Yeah, ha-ha. You're a friggin' comedian, Malfoy." O'Bannon walked by them.

Malfoy and his goons jumped in front of him. "Have you seen this yet?" He thrust out a green button pinned to his lapel. Red luminous letters spelled out "Support Cedric Diggory – The REAL Hogwarts Champion."

O'Bannon groaned. He had seen plenty of those stupid buttons around school for nearly two weeks.

Malfoy tapped the button and a new message appeared. "Potter Stinks."

"Wow," O'Bannon said in a flat tone. "'Potter stinks.' I came up with better insults when I was in kindergarten."

Malfoy curled his lip, as though offended he hadn't gotten upset. "You and the other fools in Gryffindor better enjoy your 'champion' while you can, because Potter won't last five minutes in this Tournament."

"Well that's four minutes and fifty-five seconds longer than you'd last. As soon as you saw whatever they have planned for the first task, you'd curl up into a ball and cry like a baby."

Malfoy's eyes widened. His entire body shook with rage. "How dare you speak to me like that, you Mudblood scum?"

Anger surged through O'Bannon. His hand shot out and grabbed Malfoy by the collar. The little prick yelped.

"I hear that word from you one more time and -"

A huge hand clamped down on his shoulder. O'Bannon had a second to glimpse Goyle's ape-like face before the big Slytherin shoved him backwards. He flailed, barely able to keep his balance.

Malfoy straightened his collar, shock and anger blazing on his ferrety face. "You're going to regret that, you stupid Yank!"

He dug into his robes. So did Crabbe and Goyle. O'Bannon knew they were going for their wands. He went for his.

"Is there a problem here?"

O'Bannon looked over his shoulder. Professor Burbage stood a few feet away, her hands on her hips.

Malfoy scowled, removing his hand from beneath his robes. Crabbe and Goyle did the same.

"No there isn't a problem, _Professor_." Malfoy said the last word like it was a slur. Knowing his feelings about Muggles and Muggle-borns, O'Bannon figured Malfoy had nothing but contempt for Burbage.

"Then you three should best be on your way to breakfast."

The three Slytherins glared at Professor Burbage, then at O'Bannon, before heading into the Great Hall.

"What was all that about?" Burbage asked him.

"Um, just a misunderstanding. No big deal."

"Uh-huh." Burbage's expression indicated she didn't believe him. Thankfully, she didn't pursue the matter further. "So, are you and your friends all set for your big day?"

"The hockey lesson? Um, yeah. Yeah, we're ready."

"Wonderful. I'm sure you'll do outstanding."

The veins in O'Bannon's neck stuck out. _God, I hope so._

**XXXXX**

"Jimmy? Jimmy? Oy, O'Bannon!"

O'Bannon's head snapped up from the Shepard's Pie he'd been staring at for the past few minutes. "Huh? What?"

Fred shook his head. "You must've had your head in the clouds. I asked you which one sounds like a better prank candy. One that gives you large rabbit ears or one that makes you belch purple smoke?"

O'Bannon's mouth hung open. "Uhh . . . umm."

"Blimey, Jimmy," George said. "It's not a bloody Potions test. It's a simple question. Rabbit ears or purple smoke? Which do you prefer?"  
>"Uhh . . ."<p>

"Oh, leave him be," Katie told George. "Jimmy's got a lot on his mind with this hockey thing we're doing today. Honestly, I'm a tad nervous."

"We're not," the twins declared.

"This will be the most entertaining lesson in the history of Hogwarts," George said.

"How could it not be?" Fred added. "We're going to be part of it. Not a chance this will be boring."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

The twins gave O'Bannon baffled looks. "What are you on about?" Fred asked.

He exhaled loudly. "Look, we're only gonna get one shot at showing everyone how awesome hockey is. Just going up and down the ice and taking a shot won't impress kids who've grown up watching Quidditch their whole lives. If we wanna wow 'em, we're gonna have to take things up a notch."

"How do you mean?" Angelina asked.

"I mean we do this as close to a real hockey game as possible. Or like you guys do in Quidditch. Think of how hard you fight for that Quaffle. Think how hard you smack those Bludgers, trying to take out the other players. That's how we need to play today."

"Yeah." The twins grinned eagerly.

"So you want us to play more physically out there?" Angelina nodded. "I can go for that."

"Count us in." Seamus jerked his head at Dean, who nodded emphatically.

"Cool." O'Bannon smiled. "Maybe we can even stage a fight. Really make this look like an actual game."

"What do you say, Ang?" Katie turned to her. "I think I can take you."

"You're on." Both girls smiled and shook hands.

"I'm game for that," said Ginny a few seats away.

O'Bannon clenched his jaw, staring at Ginny, and the Creeveys beyond her. "Um yeah. Actually, I was thinking. Maybe you and Colin and Dennis should stay out of the more physical stuff."

"Why?"

"Well, because, um . . ." _Jeez, how do I put this nicely? _"Well, you guys are, you know, kinda small, and I don't want to see you get hurt bad."

Ginny's face turned the same shade of red as her hair. It actually made O'Bannon wince and glance elsewhere.

"Oh, you've done it now, mate," Fred muttered.

"Got her in a right state, you did," George added.

"You're on your own on this one."

"Yeah, we're not stupid enough to get in her way when she's like that."

O'Bannon returned his gaze to Ginny, who looked ready to shoot laser beams from her eyes.

"Oh, so just because I'm some little girl you don't think I can hold my own out there? I'll have you know I play Quidditch in our paddock with these two gits," she nodded sharply to Fred and George, "and my other idiot brother Ron all the time during the summer. We can get a bit rough sometimes, but I do all right for myself, thank you very much."

O'Bannon stared at her, trying to figure out how to respond. All he could manage was, "Um, okay."

When lunch ended and everyone headed off to class, he sidled up to Fred and George and whispered, "Yo, guys. You sure about this? I mean, with Ginny. Compared to Ang and Katie, she's a shrimp. How's she gonna deal with it when we're pushing one another and throwing elbows?"

The twins stared at him for several seconds, then burst out laughing. "You'll see."

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon took one deep breath after another, trying without success to settle his hammering heart and his twisting stomach. He stopped lacing up his skates and watched as students approached the pond in twos and threes. His shoulders knotted when he noticed the expressions on many of them. They looked like they'd rather be anywhere else than here.

He turned around and scanned his friends. Ginny and Dean looked nervous. Dennis and Colin looked like they might throw up. Angelina and Katie seemed calm, or at least they hid whatever nerves they felt. Fred and George . . . well, they were Fred and George. He doubted they had a nervous bone in them.

His skates securely tied, O'Bannon stood up and smoothed out his blue sweater, which had been plain until he took some magic chalk and wrote on the front MAGIC BRUINS. The letters changed color every few seconds from black to gold. Fred, George, Angelina and Lee had similar sweaters. For Katie, Dean, Seamus, Ginny and Colin, their sweaters read MAGIC MAPLE LEAFS, a long-time rival of the actual Bruins. Alicia and Dennis wore white sweaters with black stripes, as Alicia would act as referee, with Dennis a linesman.

O'Bannon clenched and unclenched his stick as he eyed the dozens of students lining the banks of the pond. He caught sight of Professor Burbage striding toward the pond with a huge smile on her face.

_What I wouldn't give to have her confidence right now._

_Knock it off! You're gonna do fine._

Burbage waved to O'Bannon, and he waved back, praying he looked enthusiastic instead of nervous.

"Good afternoon, class," she said as she faced the students. "I know usually at this time you would all be in your dormitories relaxing or, I hope, doing your homework. And I know how much you value your free time, but today, I've arranged a special treat for you. Normally I'm only able to talk about the sorts of activities Muggles engage in. But today, thanks to our friend from across the pond, Mister O'Bannon, we will actually witness a demonstration of the popular Muggle sport known as hockey." She looked over her shoulder. "Mister O'Bannon, the class is yours."

He clenched his stick. _This is it._

Letting out a breath, O'Bannon hopped onto the ice and took off at full speed. He glanced over his shoulder. The others followed. Ginny overtook quite a few of them. Hell, she was probably the fastest skater of them all, himself included. The Creeveys lagged behind. So did Lee. They skated in a full circle around the pond, their blades making loud, constant scratches on the ice.

O'Bannon broke away from the pack and skated to center ice, where he had placed a puck earlier. He drew back his stick and fired a slapshot, his right leg in the air. Perfect hockey card form. Unlike when he'd been showing off for Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, the puck found the back of the net. He then streaked toward the edge of the pond, turned sideways and stopped. His skates threw up a snow shower.

"Hockey!" he shouted, raising his stick in the air in dramatic fashion.

Many of the students didn't look impressed.

He bit his lip, then continued. "For those of you who don't know me, my name's Jimmy O'Bannon. I'm a Muggle-born from Salem, Mass, USA, and I've been playing hockey since I was four years old. First off, I want to thank Professor Burbage for giving us this opportunity to show all of you the greatest sport ever invented by Muggles."

Professor Burbage smiled and nodded at him.

"Now, hockey came about during the Nineteenth Century. European immigrants to Canada combined some of their stick-and-ball type games, and those from the indigenous people of that country, and, because it's pretty cold in Canada, they adapted it so they could play on the ice. Since that time, the game's spread across the world. Besides Canada, there are leagues in America, Russia, The Czech Republic, Germany, the Scandinavian countries, and a lot of other places."

The majority of the class looked like they could care less. He hoped his next tactic might change that.

"I know some of you probably think any Muggle sport has to be boring, since they can't fly on brooms or do any sort of magic. Well, I can truthfully say that is not the case. How do I know that? Because back at my school, the Salem Witches Institute, we have a hockey league. We've had it since the 1950s."

Several students looked to one another with surprised expressions.

"A pair of Muggle-borns, Christian Brunet and Scott Glynn, introduced the game at Salem as a way to give people who grew up in the Wizarding World a better understanding of Muggle life. Lots of kids at my school enjoy watching the game, not just Muggle-borns, but half-bloods and purebloods as well."

More surprised looks flashed across the faces of the students.

"One reason for that, I think, is because hockey is the closest thing Muggles have to Quidditch."

"How can that be?" one student asked. "Muggles can't fly on brooms."

"No, they can't. But you can still go pretty fast on skates. Some hockey players have been clocked at over twenty-miles-per hour. Not a bad speed for people who can't use a broom. But if you want to talk about fast, let's talk about the puck."

He skated to center ice, pulled out a puck, and dropped it at his feet. "Some of the best Chasers in the world can chuck a Quaffle as fast as sixty-five miles-per-hour. For hockey players, the best ones in the world can send this puck at the net at over a hundred miles-per-hour."

Many of the Muggle Studies students responded with wide eyes and mouths agape.

O'Bannon fired the puck at the net. Maybe not at a hundred miles-per-hour, but still at a high rate of speed. The puck went into the net, top shelf.

"That's the best thing about hockey," Fred chimed in. "You get to hit things, all the time."

"We like hitting things," George added with a smile.

"Not just pucks, but people, too."

Professor Burbage tilted her head. "I beg your pardon. You actually hit people in this game?"

"Well, yeah," O'Bannon answered. "Collisions and slamming people into the boards are all part of the game. Heck, Quidditch can get pretty physical, too."

Several of the students smiled and nodded and whispered comments to each other.

"Another thing. The positions in hockey and Quidditch are kinda the same. The center and the two wingers are just like Chasers. They're the ones whose primary responsibility is to score. The defensemen are kinda like the Beaters. They're job is to make life difficult for the offensive players. And the goalie does exactly the same job as the Keeper."

"What about the Seeker?" asked a female student who looked about twelve. "Does hockey have a position like that?"

"No. There's no magic ball or puck or anything you catch to give you a hundred-fifty points and end the game. You play three twenty minute periods, and whoever scores the most goals at the end wins. If the game's tied, you play a five-minute overtime. If it's still tied, then you go to a shootout. You get one more goal than the other guy, you win."

O'Bannon briefly covered some of the rules regarding face-offs and penalties. ". . . and like I said before, things can get pretty physical on the ice, so it's not uncommon for fights to break out."

"Whoa," several students murmured, almost all of them male.

Professor Burbage's jaw dropped. "Wha-What? Muggles allow fighting in this game?"

"Well, yes and no. You can do it to get back at another player who's been on your case or as a way to fire up your team. But then you'll spend five minutes in the penalty box. Or if it's really heinous, they'll just kick you out of the game."

Burbage pressed her lips together in a tight line. For a moment, she looked unsure whether showing the Muggle Studies class hockey was a good idea.

"Um, anyway," O'Bannon said. "I can talk about hockey all day. But why talk about it when we can play it? So we're gonna have a little pick-up game here. Because we've got limited numbers, we'll be doing this with four skaters aside, plus a goalie. Me, Fred and George, Angelina and Lee will be the Magic Bruins, and Katie, Dean, Ginny, Seamus and Colin will make up the Magic Maple Leafs, with Alicia as referee and Dennis as linesman. The names of both teams are borrowed from two actual teams in the NHL, the main league in North America."

"But you spelled leaves wrong," one girl pointed out. "It's supposed to be l-e-a-v-e-s, not l-e-a-f-s."

"Well, that's the way the real Maple Leafs spell it."

"Why?"

O'Bannon paused. "Um, I don't know. They've always spelled it that way. Maybe it's a Canadian thing or something."

He led both teams out to center ice. Katie lined up opposite of him in the face-off circle, with Alicia beside them.

"Good luck." She smiled, then dropped the puck.

A sharp thwack of wood-on-wood split the air. Both he and Katie swatted at the puck with their sticks. It squirted away, in O'Bannon's direction. He spun around, corralled it, and started down ice. His eyes swept back and forth. George skated to his right. O'Bannon slapped the puck toward him. George got it as they approached the net. Colin stood in goal, his head on a swivel between O'Bannon and George. Suddenly Ginny appeared at George's side, trying to bat away the puck. George shouldered her aside and sent the puck back at O'Bannon. He made like he was about to shoot it. Colin crouched. O'Bannon passed the puck to Angelina. She fired it at the net. It hit the side and bounced off. O'Bannon raced for it, Dean on his tail. O'Bannon got the puck. Dean bumped into him. O'Bannon muscled his way past the taller Gryffindor and came around the net. He shoved the puck at the corner of the net. Colin thrust out his stick. The puck found open space and went in.

"Yeah!" O'Bannon raised both arms and skated forward on one leg. His teammates mobbed and hugged.

"C'mon, you lot!" Katie shouted. "Let's get 'em back!"

She and the other Magic Maple Leafs upped their level of play. Lee stopped one shot from Dean, but Katie retrieved the deflected puck and sent a wristshot into the net. The Leafs won the ensuing face-off, but Ginny missed the net on her shot. Fred got the puck and brought it down ice, passing to George, who sent it to O'Bannon, to Angelina, then to George, who fired it past Colin for a 2-1 Magic Bruins lead. Even with his team winning, O'Bannon inwardly winced. They sure as heck weren't giving a very good demonstration of goaltending. But the feeling came and went. Most sports fans liked offense more than defense.

The Magic Maple Leafs took the puck down ice. Alicia skated at a leisurely pace after them. No way would a real referee skate that slow. But with her condition, it was the best she could do.

Katie passed to Ginny, who sent the puck to Seamus. He missed. The puck headed for the edge of the ice. O'Bannon raced for it. So did Dean. They reached the puck at the same time. Sticks slapped together. O'Bannon and Dean shouldered one another. O'Bannon managed to push the puck toward Fred. He skated toward the Magic Maple Leaf net, then passed it to George.

Intercepted by Ginny! She flew down the ice. O'Bannon and the other Magic Bruins gave chase, but the youngest Weasley was too fast. She drew back her stick and took the shot.

Missed! The puck flew past the net and struck a mound of dirt along the bank. O'Bannon charged toward the puck. Dean was a step quicker. He passed it to Katie. She took the shot. _Clang! _Off the post. Now everyone converged on the puck. Sticks smacked together. Sometimes they smacked skates and ankles and knees. O'Bannon pushed and shouldered his way through the crowd. He dug an elbow into Seamus' side. The Irish kid drove an elbow into O'Bannon's chin.

The puck slid toward the net. Lee got down on all fours and slammed his glove on it. Dean tripped over him and fell on his back.

O'Bannon breathed heavily. Blood and adrenaline pulsated through him. He felt a scowl form on his face. Yeah, this was more like it. This was like a real game!

The Magic Maple Leafs won the next face-off. Dean tried to pass the puck to Seamus, but missed him by several feet. Everyone chased the puck to the edge of the pond. Another free-for-all ensued. O'Bannon got jostled by Dean and Seamus. A flurry of sticks swept across the ice, trying to find the puck. An eternity passed before Alicia blew her whistle. O'Bannon caught sight of Angelina and Katie. Both girls nodded and winked at one another.

They flung off their gloves and grabbed one another. Arms flailed as they screeched and landed punches on one another. Nothing more than love taps, but it looked pretty convincing.

Their helmets came off. Black and brown hair flew in all directions as they spun in circles, punching and clawing and tugging. O'Bannon stood back with the other guys. A smile spread across his face. This was actually pretty hot.

"Wicked," both Fred and George said.

"I'll say," Dean smiled and nodded.

Angelina and Katie wrestled one another to the ice. Alicia gave a prolonged blow of her whistle. The two girls released one another and got to their feet.

"Awwww," O'Bannon, Fred, George, Dean and Seamus all moaned.

Ginny rolled her eyes at them.

From the banks, several applause and cheers went up, mainly from the boys. A feeling of euphoria shot through O'Bannon. _They're liking it. They're really liking it._

With Angelina and Katie in the penalty box, or in this case the penalty patch-of-grass-along-the-pond, it was three-on-three for the next five minutes. O'Bannon easily won the face-off against Seamus and took the puck down ice. He passed to Fred on his right.

That's when he noticed three girls in blue silken robes behind the Muggle Studies class. One was that tall, athletic French witch. She watched the game with an interested expression. Her two companions looked bored. O'Bannon didn't care about them. That other witch was interested in the game. His game.

_Dude, get your head out of your ass!_

His focus returned to the ice just as Fred zipped the puck toward him. He got it on his stick, looked to the net, then looked at George.

That's when he saw it. A small figure lowered her shoulder and plowed into his hip. The world spun. O'Bannon felt himself go end over end and slam into the ice. As he laid there groaning, he turned his head to the side and spotted Ginny streaking down the ice. She deked to the left and fired the puck past Lee into the net.

Fred and George skated over and looked down at him.

"Well we did warn you." Fred grinned. "Our dear sweet little sister does have a mean streak to her."

"What do you have to say for yourself now, Jimmy Boy?" George asked.

O'Bannon shifted his eyes from Fred to George and uttered one word. "Ow."

**XXXXX**

"Absolutely wonderful lesson, Mister O'Bannon," Professor Burbage gushed when the game was over. "All of you. Twenty points to Gryffindor for each and every one of you."

Several cheers went up from the Gryffindors behind him. O'Bannon smiled and pumped his fist. Twenty times twelve meant his House just earned 240 points in one shot! That should more than make up for all the points he lost Gryffindor his first month at Hogwarts.

Even better, many of the students looked to have enjoyed the game.

"I've seen Quidditch matches that weren't as physical as this," said one Ravenclaw who introduced himself as Anthony Goldstein. "Quite an interesting game, this hockey."

"Thanks, man." He shook hands with Goldstein and walked around, taking in some of the other students. There were still more than a few who looked as bored now as they had when they first arrived.

"Thank Merlin that's over," O'Bannon overheard one girl. "Who can enjoy a game where you never leave the ground?"

He frowned for a moment. _C'mon, man. Not everyone was gonna like this. _He figured he should feel pleased that he got at least a few converts.

He checked around the lawn for the tall, athletic French witch, wondering, hoping, she was still around. Maybe she'd come up and talk to him, maybe say how much she enjoyed the game.

He kept looking, but couldn't find her.

"Excuse me."

O'Bannon turned around. A short girl with long light brown hair and a rather plain face stood a couple feet away. Next to her was a stout boy with blond hair. Both wore the black and gold badger crest of Hufflepuff on their robes.

_This could be fun. _"Yeah?"

"Um, my name is Susan Bones, and this is Ernie MacMillan."

The boy, Ernie, gave him a brief, unsmiling nod.

"We thought your hockey game was quite interesting."

O'Bannon was taken aback. How long had it been since any Hufflepuff said anything complimentary to a Gryffindor?

"Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it."

"You're quite welcome. We were just thinking . . ."

Ernie grimaced, as though he didn't like Susan speaking for him.

She went on. "Do you have any plans on expanding your group, perhaps making it an official club here at Hogwarts?"

"Um, not really." Until this lesson they'd never had any sort of official organization. He just treated it as a group of friends playing pick-up games whenever the mood struck them. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that Professor Burbage offers extra credit for those of us who participate in purely Muggle activities. Ernie and I come from magical families, so we really don't have the opportunity to do that."

"I just need the extra credit so I maintain an Exceeds Expectations in all my classes," Ernie spoke with a haughty air. "Susan suggested this might be a good way to get it, unless you want to keep this an exclusively Gryffindor thing, since you seem to think yours is the only House that matters here."

O'Bannon narrowed his eyes. He decided there and then that he did not like this Ernie MacMillan guy.

"Ernie, please," Susan gently scolded him.

Ernie scowled as she continued. "Sorry about that, it's just . . . well, the whole issue of two Hogwarts champions . . ."

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to explain it to me."

"Well, as I was saying. I wondered if there was a chance you could make this an official club. Let some of the students from the Muggle Studies class participate. Maybe even those who aren't in the class. Anyone in any House."

O'Bannon's jaw tightened. Did any House also mean Slytherin?

"Well, I guess if there are more people interested, and you guys can get extra credit out of it, I guess we can make this more of an official thing."

"Oh splendid." Susan smiled.

"Just so long as you teach us how to properly play the game," Ernie said, "and not do anything underhanded to hurt the grades of any Hufflepuffs."

"Ernie." Susan's tone was a bit sharper than before.

O'Bannon clenched his teeth to keep from calling Ernie a jagoff. "Anyone who comes out, I'll teach them about hockey the best I can." He stared right at MacMillan. "And if you wanna be part of this club, then whatever issues you've got with Gryffindor you put aside from the moment you step on the ice until the moment you step off it, otherwise I'll take out my wand and fling you all the way to the English Channel. Understand?"

Anger lines etched into Ernie's face. "I don't much like being threatened."

"I didn't ask if you liked it. I asked if you understood."

Ernie huffed and turned to Susan, who gave him something of a stern look. He turned back to O'Bannon. "Fine."

Susan thanked him and headed off, with Ernie following. O'Bannon watched them go. An official hockey club at Hogwarts? That would be pretty cool. As an athlete, he knew how important momentum was. He felt they had some after this lesson. Quite a few of the Muggle Studies students enjoyed the game. It would be a shame to not do something to continue that and risk them losing interest.

Another thought struck him, one that might put this whole idea jeopardy.

Would the other Gryffindors accept Hufflepuffs into the club?

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	17. Team Bonding

**CHAPTER 17: ****TEAM BONDING**

* * *

><p>"You seriously want us to put up with those tossers from Hufflepuff?"<p>

O'Bannon groaned as he stared at Seamus' scowling face. He shifted his gaze to the other members of the "hockey club" sitting in a corner of the Gryffindor common room. Fred and George gave him doubtful looks. Angelina folded her arms and stared at him, unsmiling.

"Actually, it was a girl from Hufflepuff who suggested we make this an official club."  
>"Probably so the Puffs can get us to lower our guard when we're on the ice, then hex the living daylights out of us," Fred said.<p>

Dean bobbed his head from side-to-side. "I don't know. Seamus and I have had Susan Bones in some of our classes. She's always seemed nice. Doesn't look like she's got a vindictive bone in her body."

"That's rather surprising," Katie spoke up. "All things considered."

O'Bannon furrowed his brow. "What'd you mean?"

"Most of Susan's family was murdered by You-Know-Who during the war. I think the only one she's got left is an aunt."

A pang of sorrow went through O'Bannon. He cast his gaze to the floor, wondering what it must have been like for Susan to grow up with hardly any family.

_All because of one insane evil bastard of a dark wizard._

At least Voldemort was dead and couldn't wipe out any more families.

"Maybe Susan's all right," Angelina said. "But what about this MacMillan bloke?"

Dean and Seamus exchanged unsure looks. Dean turned back to the others and winced. "Ernie's, um, all right . . . most times."

"Well that's a ringing endorsement." O'Bannon snorted. After dealing with MacMillan himself, his opinion of the Hufflepuff boy was much, much lower than Dean's.

Angelina shook her head. "Can we really trust the Hufflepuffs to behave themselves? I can tell you this, I'm not going to put up with their constant whinging about Harry cheating to become a Hogwarts champion."

"We won't have to worry about that if we slip 'em all Ton-Tongue Toffees beforehand." A wicked smile crossed George's lips.

"Or maybe this could be a chance to mend some fences with them, sort to speak."

All eyes turned to Alicia.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. We used to get on well with Hufflepuff until the Goblet picked both Harry and Cedric. Maybe inviting them into this hockey club can help things go back the way they were with our Houses."

"Don't see that happening," said Fred. "What with them acting like gits."

"They probably think we're acting like gits, too," Alicia countered. "Someone has to take a first step to putting things right."

"Why should we be the ones?" Seamus snapped. "They started all this."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Merlin's beard, Seamus, you sound like a six-year-old."

Seamus glowered at her.

"Look." O'Bannon raised his hands in a calming fashion. "If we're gonna make this an official school club, I think we gotta open it up to everyone. All Houses, and I guess with Durmstrang and Beauxbatons here, all schools."

"Does that include Slytherin?" Angelina narrowed her eyes.

O'Bannon bit his lip. Could they really get away with saying, "Everyone but Slytherin welcome?"

"C'mon, Ang," Dean said. "Like anyone from Slytherin would really want to play a Muggle game."

"I think Dean's got a point." Ginny nodded.

"So do I," O'Bannon agreed. "I don't think we have to worry about any Slytherins joining this club."

He waited a few seconds to see if anyone would argue the point. No one did.

"So I guess it's settled." Katie looked around at the others. "Everyone's invited to join our hockey club."

"And if any plonker Puffs give us trouble," Fred said.

"They'll end up with some Balloon-Bum Powder down their trousers." George tacked on a sly smile.

"That's not gonna happen," O'Bannon declared. "I made it clear to MacMillan. Any issues between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff get left off the ice. Anyone starts any crap about who's the real champion for Hogwarts, I'll chuck 'em off the ice myself. And I mean anyone."

Fred and George frowned. So did Angelina. O'Bannon fought to keep a from frowning. He hated having to be a hard-ass to his friends, but he was sort of the de facto leader of this club. He had to do whatever it took to maintain order.

He exhaled softly. "Look, I don't expect you to suddenly be friends with MacMillan or anyone else from Hufflepuff. If you wanna call each other butt-sniffing, toejam-eating moronic wankers -"

"Good one," Fred interrupted.

"Got to remember that one," George added.

O'Bannon found it hard to get mad at them for cutting him off. "If you wanna do that in the corridors, be my guest. But when we're on the ice, all our differences get put aside. And I don't think doing that for an hour or two is too much to ask."

Fred, George and Angelina stared at one another for a few seconds. Seamus clenched his jaw and pondered the floor.

The twins bobbed their heads side-to-side in thought, then turned back to O'Bannon. "I think we can manage that," Fred said. Angelina nodded behind him.

Seamus huffed before looking up at O'Bannon. "Yeah, all right."

"Cool. I guess that's all settled."

"Not quite," said Angelina. "If we want to make this an official club, we need permission from the teachers."

O'Bannon shrugged. "I'm sure I can get permission from Professor Burbage."

"Actually for something like this you'd have to go to a teacher more senior. Someone like Professor McGonagall."

Now his shoulders slumped. _Friggin' great. _The formation of this club depended on a teacher whom he'd been nothing but a pain in the ass to since day one.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon waited until the end of his next Transfiguration class before he approached Professor McGonagall.

"Yes, Mister O'Bannon," she said in a stiff tone.

He tensed, expecting her to shoot down his request to form a hockey club, just because.

"Um . . . I, uh, wanted to see if I could ask you something."

McGonagall gave her an impatient look. "If you have a question, then ask it."

"Um, well, I was talking to Susan Bones, from Hufflepuff House."

"Yes, I know who Miss Bones is."

"Oh. Yeah. Um, well, after we did our hockey demonstration for the Muggle Studies class, Susan asked if maybe we could form an official hockey club here at Hogwarts. Help teach wizards and witches the game, give 'em a better appreciation of the Muggle World."

McGonagall just stared at him for several, silent seconds. O'Bannon shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Permission to form a club must ultimately come from Professor Dumbledore. I shall pass on your request to him."

O'Bannon's jaw stiffened. For a moment, he thought McGonagall was blowing him off. He dismissed that. She seemed the type of witch who if she didn't approve of something, she'd tell you.

"Thanks, Professor. I appreciate that."

"You're quite welcome, Mister O'Bannon." She gave him a brief nod.

He nodded back and turned to leave. Halfway to the door, he paused, then turned back to her.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mister O'Bannon?"

"Um, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know I was a pain in the . . . well, I was a pain when I first got here. I had some stuff going on and, well, I guess that's no excuse. But you were right. I did let Headmistress Esmeralda down, and I just want you to know that things are better for me here now, and I promise I'll be a better student from here on out."

McGonagall just stared at him with a neutral expression. The silence went on and on. Did she not believe him?

"I am glad to hear that. I must admit, I have noticed a distinct change in your behavior over the past month, and a change for the better, for which I'm very pleased."

"Thanks, Professor."

"However, I have noticed you spend a significant amount of time around Fred and George Weasley. While I'm glad you have made friends here at Hogwarts, I strongly suggest you not pick up some of their more . . . mischievous traits."

"I won't, Professor. Count on it." O'Bannon had never been much into practical jokes, anyway.

He left the classroom, feeling more confident than when he walked in. Now he just had to wait for Dumbledore to give his okay.

He didn't have to wait long. The next day before lunch, none other than Harry Potter delivered a note to him outside the Great Hall.

"This is from Professor Dumbledore."

"Thanks, Harry." He took the little piece of parchment from him, studying the younger wizard. Anxiety radiated from Harry's body. Understandable. The First Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament was just a couple weeks away, and no one had a clue what it would be.

Once again, Harry Potter came off as a scared 14 year old boy and not one of the Wizarding World's greatest heroes.

"You doin' okay, Harry?"

"Um, yeah. Sure. Fine."

O'Bannon frowned. _Well that was a lie. _"Uh-huh. Well, just practice every spell and curse you think you might need to get through this tournament."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks. I'm doing that with Hermione. Thanks, Jimmy."

"Anytime, man." A flicker of surprise went through him. _Damn, I just gave advice to Harry Potter. _Rosa, Jared and Artimus would probably never believe him if he told them.

As Harry headed into the Great Hall, Jimmy unfolded the parchment from Headmaster Dumbledore.

_Jimmy,_

_I hereby give you permission to form your hockey club here at Hogwarts. What a brilliant way to provide those from magical families with a better insight into the Muggle World. I also admire your initiative in putting this together. Headmistress Esmeralda couldn't have chosen a better ambassador from her school and country._

_Best of luck._

_Prof. A. Dumbledore._

"Yes!" He did a fist pump and bounded into the Great Hall to share the good news with Fred, George and the others.

"First thing we should do is make up some fliers and hang them throughout the school," Angelina suggested.

"Leave that to me," Dean volunteered.

He did not disappoint. The next morning at breakfast, Dean showed them all a handful of parchment, each one with the same magical drawing of a hockey player shooting a puck into a net and raising his arms in triumph. Glowing words beneath the image read, HERE'S YOUR CHANCE TO LEARN A MUGGLE SPORT. THE FIRST MEETING OF THE HOGWARTS HOCKEY CLUB TAKES PLACE THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20TH AT 4 O'CLOCK AT THE SPARKLING POND. EXTRA CREDIT FOR THOSE IN MUGGLE STUDIES CLASS.

"Damn, Dean, this is good." Better than good, O'Bannon thought. Dean was a hell of an artist. He could never have done anything like this. O'Bannon found out in second grade that he had no artistic ability. He couldn't even draw halfway decent stick figures.

They hung a flier on the wall leading to the Great Hall. O'Bannon stood back, flanked by the others, and nodded in satisfaction.

"This must be a joke."

Everyone turned to find Malfoy sneering at the flier. As usual, Crabbe and Goyle were attached to his hip. Two unpleasant-looking girls had also joined them, one short with black hair and a round face, the other with dark hair and a hefty build. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode.

"What fool would allow a Muggle game to be played here at Hogwarts?" Pansy sounded like she wanted to spit.

"That 'fool's' name would be Professor Dumbledore," Katie shot back.

Malfoy grunted. "Figures he'd allow something like this. This school's become the joke of the Wizarding World thanks to his incompetence. This sort of thing would never take place at Durmstrang."

"Then why don't you do us all a favor and go there," said Dean.

"Believe me, I'd love to, if only to get away from Mudbloods like you and O'Bannon."

The two narrowed their eyes at Malfoy, who shifted his gaze to Seamus, "Or wizards whose mothers allow some filth-spawned Muggle to touch them and -"

Seamus let out a war cry and leaped on Malfoy. Both fell to the stone floor and rolled around. Crabbe reached down and grabbed the back of Seamus' collar. O'Bannon, Fred and George rammed into the huge Slytherin and knocked him to the ground.

"Draco!" Pansy screeched and pulled out her wand. "Get off him, you lunatic!"

Katie had her wand out in a flash and cast a Disarming Spell. Pansy's wand flew across the corridor.

A bolt of orange struck Malfoy and Seamus and flung them apart. O'Bannon whipped his head to the left.

_Oh crap._

A very angry Professor McGonagall stood a few feet away, clutching her wand. "Mister Malfoy! Mister Finnigan! What is the meaning for this appalling behavior?"

"Finnigan's crazy!" Malfoy jabbed a finger at him. "He attacked me for no reason.

"Bullocks! You called me da' filth, you dung-sucking -"

"Mister Finnigan!" McGonagall cut him off. "Twenty points from Gryffindor and twenty points from Slytherin, and two nights detention for both of you, starting tonight. Miss Bell. You know better than to use magic in the corridors. Another five points from Gryffindor. And another five points from Slytherin, as Miss Parkinson was about to use her wand."

"To defend Draco!" she cried.

O'Bannon waited for him and the twins to get docked points, but it didn't happen. In fact, McGonagall was ordering the students around them to move off, making sure the Gryffindors and Slytherins left in opposite directions. He clenched his jaw, looking first at Seamus, then Katie. He didn't like the fact of getting off scott free while two of his friends were punished.

"Professor."

"Yes, Mister O'Bannon?"

"I was involved, too."

McGonagall tilted her head and aimed a harsh gaze at him. "I beg your pardon."

"I tackled Crabbe when he went after Seamus."

"That's not true, Professor," Fred stepped forward.

George followed, saying, "We tackled him. Fred and I."

"And me," O'Bannon reiterated.

McGonagall's face tightened in anger. "I must say, Mister O'Bannon, I'm greatly disappointed in you, especially after you promised to be on your best behavior from here on out. And you two," she nodded sharply at Fred and George. "Even for you this behavior is beyond the pale. Twenty points each from Gryffindor, and the three of you can join Mister Finnigan and Mister Malfoy in detention tonight and tomorrow. Not get to class and I warn you, do not put one toe out of line today, or else."

O'Bannon stomped off, face twisted in anger. This had started out as such a good day, with them ready to promote their first hockey club meeting. But friggin' Draco Malfoy ruined everything!

_Bastard!_

Even worse, he was back in the doghouse with McGonagall, barely two days after he finally got out of it.

"Oy, Jimmy," Seamus called to him.

"Yeah?"

"What was that all about?"

"What?"

"Confessing like that to Professor McGonagall," Seamus said. "You coulda just kept your mouth shut and stayed out of detention."

"Exactly," Fred said. "Why do you think George and I said we shoved Crabbe and left your name out?"

"The answer, if you're not aware," said George, "was to keep you out of trouble."

O'Bannon turned and halted. So did the others. He looked at them, most of his focus on Seamus and Katie. "I couldn't let you guys take the fall for something I was just as guilty of doing. I mean, you know, we're, well, we're teammates, I guess. Teammates have each other's back."

Fred, George, Seamus and the others just stared at him, astounded by his admission. Several of them looked to one another, then back at O'Bannon.

"I guess we are, in a way," Katie said.

"I still think you're an idiot for not keeping your mouth shut," Seamus said. "But thanks for keeping me company in detention." He then turned to the twins. "You guys, too."

"Quite the noble thing to do, Jimmy." Angelina smiled. "You're all right."

O'Bannon smiled back. At that moment, he felt something, something he'd previously only felt when he'd been around Jared, Rosa and Artimus back at Salem.

It was more than friendship. He felt a true bond between him and these people.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	18. Mireet Miradeaux

**CHAPTER 18: MIREET MIRADEAUX**

* * *

><p>If anything positive came out of his two nights of detention, it confirmed for O'Bannon something he'd always suspected about Draco Malfoy.<p>

The guy was a coward.

Barely a minute into their punishment, which involved polishing all the awards in the trophy case without magic, Malfoy snarled at them, "You'll all pay for this. Especially you, Finnigan. I'll not have -"

"Hey!" O'Bannon swung around to face him. "If I gotta spend the next two or three hours here, I don't wanna hear another word out of your damn mouth!"

"Neither do I," said Finnigan.

"Same here," said Fred.

"So shut your gob and get to polishing, ferret boy," George added.

With all four of them glowering at Malfoy, and with his twin gorillas nowhere in sight, he shrank away and didn't say another word for the rest of the night, and the next.

O'Bannon's mood improved once their detentions were over. He got excited for the first official meeting of the Hogwarts Hockey Club, and hoped they would get a good turnout. Besides the entrance to the Great Hall, Dean's fliers promoting the meeting hung in the Gryffindor common room and the door of the Muggle Studies classroom. Susan Bones and Anthony Goldstein also took fliers to hang in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw common rooms.

Two days before the meeting, O'Bannon received a couple of letters from home. The first came from his parents, who were happy he had finally made some friends and was having a better time at Hogwarts. The next one came from Jared, Rosa and Artimus. Jared mentioned that the Blazenrowe Hall hockey team got blown out by Jingosocke Hall in their season opener 6-1.

_I'm glad you're enjoying yourself in Britain, but we miss you on the ice._

Rosa gave him some surprising news.

_Gregory Lancemore and I are an item! He asked me to the Halloween Dance and well, what girl in her right mind would say no. But along with being totally sexy, he's cooler and sweeter than I ever imagined._

O'Bannon tilted his head and stared at the letter. He wasn't sure how to feel about this. He'd always admired Gregory for his ability to pick up any witch he set his sights on. But with that witch now being Rosa . . .

_Is she setting herself up for a broken heart? _Gregory always seemed to have a new girlfriend every few months. How long would he and Rosa stay together? How would she react if, and probably when, they broke up?

_C'mon, it's Rosa. She can handle herself._

Despite her new relationship with Gregory, Rosa still wanted to know if Harry Potter was really cute.

_Like I'd know._

Artimus wrote how it must be incredible to be around Harry Potter and Viktor Krum, and hoped he enjoyed the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

_Damn, the first task is next week._ That made him wonder if he should have rescheduled the hockey club meeting until after next Tuesday, the day of the task. Most of the talk among the students revolved around the tournament. What would the first task be? How would the champions fare? Would Hogwarts win? And, of course, the debate still raged over who was the real champion, Cedric Diggory or Harry Potter, and how had Harry gotten into the tournament.

_Poor guy, _O'Bannon thought every time he saw Harry. He seemed to grow paler and paler as the day of the first task drew nearer.

"You can do this, Harry," he said to him one day when he saw him sitting on a couch in the common room, staring at his lap. "Just keep practicing your spellwork."

Harry responded with a small moan and a barely perceptible nod. That made O'Bannon wonder if Harry had heard a word he'd said. Then again, why would he listen to him? O'Bannon was more of an acquaintance to Harry Potter than a friend. And after reading the history of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he knew it would take a hell of a lot more than encouraging words to get through it.

Luckily, Harry had Hermione Granger helping him, and more than a few Gryffindors called her, "The brightest witch of her age," though they sometimes added she could do with a more pleasant disposition.

All O'Bannon could do was wish Harry luck and hope Hermione had the brains and talent to help him. Meanwhile, he had his own stuff to deal with, namely, the Hogwarts Hockey Club.

When Thursday the 20th rolled around, he found himself way more excited than nervous, unlike when he gave the hockey demonstration to the Muggle Studies class. He figured that was like an opening day game, when everyone felt butterflies in their stomach. But with that behind him, he could relax and look forward to the meeting.

As soon as his last class of the day ended, he hurried back to his room, grabbed his gear, and headed to the hockey pond. Katie and Angelina were already there. Soon Fred, George and Lee showed up, followed by Dean, Seamus, Ginny, Alicia and the Creeveys. Next came Anthony Goldstein, Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, and another Hufflepuff who introduced himself as Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"I'm Muggle-born, too, but I confess I don't know much about hockey. I thought I'd give it a go and see what it's like."

A wave of disappointment went through O'Bannon when only seven more new people showed up. Four Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs, and a rather young Gryffindor named Jimmy Peakes. O'Bannon looked at his watch. About four minutes remained before their first meeting began. He hoped for a big last-minute rush of kids. He scanned beyond the pond, but saw no one else headed their way.

_Damn. I should've scheduled this after the first task._

That's when he saw the figure, tall and stout with dark brown hair, striding toward the lake. O'Bannon skated to the edge of the pond to greet him.

"I am Miroslav Harkorth from Durmstrang," the wizard said with a heavy Eastern European accent.

Surprise shot through O'Bannon. He had serious doubts anyone from that school would join the club.

"I hope to join your club. Grandfather was Muggle-born. He died when I was young. I want to learn about his, er, Muggle side."

"Sure thing, man. Welcome aboard. Go see Alicia over there. She's transfiguring twigs into hockey sticks and'll put skates on your shoes."

"That is good. I will. Thank you."

O'Bannon turned and watched Harkorth head over to Alicia. He then did a quick head count. Twenty-three people, including himself. _Not bad, I guess. _Though take away the kids who'd been playing hockey before today and that number went down to twelve. He hoped he'd get many more new people, but –

"Pardon?"

He held his breath when he heard the silky, French-accented voice. Slowly, he turned around. Tingles raced through his body.

The tall, athletic French witch stood on the banks of the pond, smiling at him. His heart sped up as she spoke. "I wish to join your hockey club."

O'Bannon's mouth hung open wordlessly for a second. "Um . . . uh, sure. Um, oh! Jimmy O'Bannon." He held out his hand.

"Mireet Miradeaux."

They shook hands, O'Bannon liking the way Mireet's name rolled off her tongue.

"I watched your demonstration the other week and thought it was very interesting. I would like to attempt this game myself."

"Um, sure. Glad you could come. Um, you can go see Alicia over there and she'll get you set up."

"_Merci. _A pleasure meeting you."

"You, too."

She gave him another smile before heading over to Alicia. O'Bannon watched her go, feeling his insides turn to jelly.

Hard as it was, he refocused on the hockey club. He had the students gather at center ice, and noted how everyone arranged themselves. Gryffindors on one side, Hufflepuffs on the other, with the Ravenclaws, plus Mireet and Harkorth, between them like a buffer.

_Whatever, so long as they don't start going off on one another._

"Thanks for coming out to the first official meeting of the Hogwarts Hockey Club. For those of you who don't know me -"

"He's Jimmy O'Bannon, from _Baaa-ston, _Mass." Fred and George did an absolutely horrific imitation of his New England accent.

He thought he should be upset with the twins for interrupting him, but again, couldn't bring himself to scold them, especially since it made some of the kids chuckle. Including Mireet. O'Bannon looked upon the interruption as a nice icebreaker.

"Thanks, Fred. George."

The twins grinned at him as he continued. "Anyway, along with learning about the greatest Muggle sport every invented, hopefully what we do here will give you guys who grew up in purely magical families a greater appreciation of how Muggles do stuff without magic. Now I know you all have Balancing Charms on your skates, but that's as far as any magic usage goes in this club. Besides, when Muggles have been playing hockey as long as I have, skating comes as naturally as walking. Hopefully, you'll see that just because a game doesn't involve magic, it doesn't mean it can't be fun. Some of the kids here have been playing hockey for nearly a month, and they enjoy it. In fact," he turned to the Gryffindors. "Why don't you guys tell 'em what you think of it."

Katie started off by saying hockey was, "Rather like a ground-based version of Quidditch." Angelina added her testimony next, followed by Dean, then Ginny. O'Bannon tried to listen, but his attention kept drifting toward Mireet. A fluttering sensation went through his stomach. Merlin's beard, she had such a beautiful face, and a beautiful smile. Heck, everything about her was beautiful. Even her name was hot! He knew most guys at Hogwarts couldn't stop ogling the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour. He couldn't deny the half-veela was drop dead gorgeous. But Fleur struck him as a real snob. After Penny Nichols, he knew that great looks and a crap attitude equaled a very bad break-up.

Mireet, though, didn't have that air of superiority about her. She seemed really nice. He started thinking of ways he could try and talk with her after the meeting when Fred's voice blasted through his thoughts.

"Oy! O'Bannon!"

"Huh? What?"

"We're all done extolling the virtues of hockey. Time for you to take over."

"Oh. Yeah, right. Um, so anyway . . ." He paused for a couple seconds to gather his thoughts before launching into a brief lecture about the history and rules of hockey. He then showed the newbies the proper way to hold a stick and shot. Next, he had them take turns shooting at the net, five shots to a player.

"So are we actually going to play a game or just stand here hitting these little disc things," MacMillan complained. "Because this can get boring in a hurry."

"Hey. When you first pick up a broom, you don't just jump into a full-blown Quidditch game. You gotta learn the basics first."

"Unless you're Harry Potter, of course," George chimed in.

MacMillan scowled. "Of course, because Harry Potter can do any-"

"Yo, shut it!" O'Bannon barked. "What did I say about none of that crap on the ice?"  
>MacMillan looked like he wanted to say something, but a rather stern look from Susan made him hold his tongue.<p>

O'Bannon aimed a harsh gaze at George, too. He offered him an apologetic smile.

With peace restored, O'Bannon had each player skate toward the net and take a shot. Even with no goalie, more than half the newbies missed.

But not Mireet. If anything, they way she skated, shot and scored made it look as though she'd played hockey before.

After that came passing drills, first back and forth standing still, then on the move to the net, first with no goalie, then with Lee between the pipes. This proved pretty challenging to some of them. Many of the newbies, MacMillan included, not only failed to score, sometimes their passes missed their partner. MacMillan, though, reacted worse than most, slamming his stick on the ice. Fred, George and Seamus chuckled amongst themselves. O'Bannon shot them a look that said, _knock it off, _then turned back to MacMillan. "Ernie, if you get pissed every time you miss a shot or a pass, you're never going to improve. You make a mistake, learn from it and move on. That's the only way to get better."

MacMillan stared at him unsmiling for several seconds. O'Bannon prepared himself for whatever crap would come out of the Hufflepuff's mouth.

But MacMillan surprised him. He simply nodded and skated back to the others.

"Okay, next, how about Angelina and Mireet."

The two girls set of down the ice. O'Bannon couldn't keep his eyes off Mireet. The way she skated with such smooth, measured strides. He could only think of one word to describe it. Grace.

Angelina and Mireet made some pretty good passes to each other before Mireet took the shot. Lee brought up his arm and deflected the puck.

"Nice." O'Bannon skated over to the girls, his focus entirely on Mireet. He bit his lower lip, almost afraid to say anything for fear she might feel he was picking on her. But his job was to teach hockey, so . . .

"Not bad, Mireet. But it looked like you pushed the puck more than hit it. You wanna put a lot more force behind it, make that shot quick."

"I understand." She nodded and smiled at him. _"Merci."_

She started to skate past him when he said, "But, um, other than that, your form looked good out there."  
>Mireet gave him a quizzical look.<p>

"Um, I mean skating. You skate really well. Real smooth, you know?"

_"Merci." _Again she smiled and nodded.

As he skated back to the others, Fred and George headed over to him.

"I'll bet you thought her _form _looked good." Fred grinned while George chuckled.

O'Bannon glowered at them.

By the time everyone had taken their turn attacking the net, it was well after five o'clock. He gathered them all at center ice.

"I think we're gonna call it a day, since it's getting close to dinnertime. Sorry we didn't get to do an actual game, but we can do that at our next meeting."

"When will that be?" Susan asked.

"Um, I guess we can make it same time next Thursday, if everyone's cool with that."

Several students voiced their agreement or just nodded. Two kids, one Hufflepuff, one Ravenclaw, stared at the ice with disinterested looks. O'Bannon had a feeling he wouldn't see either of them at the next meeting. He forced himself not to frown. He had to accept the reality that not every wizard and witch would enjoy hockey as much as Fred, George and his other Gryffindor friends.

He stood at the edge of the pond and thanked everyone for coming as they left the ice.

"This was enjoyable," Harkorth told him. "I much like to come again."

"We'd love to have you back, man." He shook the Bulgarian's hand.

"Quit an interesting game," Justin said. "It's a bit like football, except you use sticks instead of your feet."

"Glad you enjoyed it. I hope to see you back next Thursday."

"I think I will come back." Justin shook his hand and departed.

Ernie MacMillan also gave him a very formal "thank you" before he left.

"So are we gonna see you next week?" O'Bannon asked.

"Of course. I still need that extra credit in Muggle Studies."

O'Bannon stifled a groan. Not exactly the most exuberant of answers, but with a guy like MacMillan, it would do.

"Brilliant job here, Jimmy Boy." Fred slapped him on the back.

"I'll second that," George added. "I'd say this hockey club of yours is on the way to becoming a rousing success."

"Thanks, guys, and thanks for your help, but I was kinda hoping we'd get some more new blood out here today."

"Don't worry about that," said Fred. "Once all the excitement over the first task is over and everyone realizes there's no Quidditch and the second task is about four months away, they'll be aching for something to do."

"Right." George nodded. "You can't expect everyone to spend all their time studying in the library."

"Unless you're Hermione Granger."

"Or Quincy Questor."

"And we'll do what we can to get more people to interested," Fred promised.

"You guys rule. Thanks." O'Bannon high-fived them.

"Pardon. I hope I'm not interrupting."

O'Bannon peered around George. He tensed when he saw Mireet skating up to him, smiling that beautiful smile of hers.

"I just wanted to thank you for this opportunity. It was very enjoyable."

"Uh, sure. Thanks. Glad you had fun." He shook Mireet's hand, an airy feeling in his chest as he felt the skin of her palm. "You, um, you did good out there. You're, like, a natural."

_"Merci." _Her smile grew brighter. "I have skated before, but I never had to do it holding a stick and trying to hit a, what do you call it again, a _pook?"_

O'Bannon's knees buckled. He never thought the word "puck" could sound so sexy. But with that silky French accent, every word out of Mireet's mouth sounded sexy.

"Well, um, I think if you stick with this, you'll be one heck of a player."

"That is very kind of you to say."

O'Bannon nodded, then glimpsed Fred and George still standing nearby. He gave them a slight tilt of his head, hoping they got the message.

_Beat it._

"Oh!" Fred blurted. "Sorry to be rude, but we'd best be off. We've got that, um, thing to take care of, right, George?"

"Huh?" George followed his twin's gaze to Mireet, then looked to O'Bannon. "Oh right. That thing. Yes, sorry all. Must dash."

"Pleasure meeting you, Mireet," Fred said. "See you at supper, Jimmy Boy."

With their backs to Mireet, the twins winked and grinned at O'Bannon before heading back to the castle. He turned back to Mireet, mesmerized by her smooth, beautiful face. He racked out his brains, trying to think of something to say to her. Something that wouldn't sound stupid.

Thankfully, Mireet spared him the agony. "So you have played this game for a long time?"

"Uh, yeah. Since I was about four. We also have a league back at my school, the Salem Witches Institute."

"They actually play a Muggle game at your school? That is very rare in the Wizarding World."

"I know. Thankfully, back in the fifties, a couple of Muggle-borns introduced it at Salem, and they've been playing it ever since."

"That is wonderful," Mireet said. "I believe the Wizarding World needs to be more appreciative of the accomplishments of Muggles."

"Thank you." O'Bannon did nothing to hide the elation in his voice. "It's nice to hear someone say that every once in a while."

"You are welcome."

He drew a deep breath, his nervousness fading. "I'm really glad you decided to give hockey a try."

"Well, this hockey is one Muggle activity I have not yet tried."

"You've done other Muggle stuff before?"

"_Oui. _My mother works for our Ministry's Office of Muggle Relations. Since I was a little girl, she has arranged for me to participate in Muggle games and activities. She says it is a good way for me to learn and appreciate how Muggles do things without magic. I have tried gymnastics, ballet, football, tennis."

"Wow. No wonder you did so well here your first time out. You're a natural athlete."

"_Merci. _But you are a very good instructor, too. You were patient with us and did not talk to us as though we were imbeciles, unlike the captain of my Quidditch team at Beauxbatons. She believes the only way to teach and motivate players is by yelling at them. I do not enjoy such a method at all."

"Most people would probably quit rather than put up with that."

"I do not quit." Mireet's face stiffened. "I would never give someone like our captain the satisfaction of knowing she can affect me like that."

O'Bannon's eyes widened, admiring her spirit. After years of being friends with Rosa, he'd grown fond of strong women.

"Cool. So what position do you play?"

"I am a Beater."

His eyebrows went up in surprise. Very few women played Beater. But Mireet had a good build for that position. She was buff, but in a distinctly feminine way.

"I had hoped to try out for one of the house teams here, but there will be no Quidditch because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament." She crinkled her nose in annoyance. Moments later, her face brightened again. "But I hope you will continue with this hockey club."

"That's the plan. Heck, if it was for hockey, I don't think I woulda made any friends here."

"Yes, I imagine that must be hard for someone coming from very far away."

O'Bannon frowned slightly. "Yeah, that and . . . well, I didn't start out endearing myself to the Brits."

"How so?"

"Run of bad luck. It seemed like every time I turned around, I did something to cost Gryffindor House points. They take the whole points thing here very seriously, and the Gryffindors weren't too happy with me for costing them so many points."

"I am sorry to hear that. I hope things are better for you now."

"Oh, they are. Fred and George really helped smooth things over between me and the other Gryffindors. A couple months ago, I didn't want to have anything to do with this place. Now I'm likin' it here."

"I am hoping to have an enjoyable time at Hogwarts as well. I want to meet as many people as I can here, unlike some of my classmates. Many of them prefer to associate with each other and stay in our carriage. Some, though, do that because they do not speak English well."

"You speak English very well."

"_Merci. _My parents worked abroad for many years for our Ministry of Magic. They insisted I learn the language of whatever country we lived in. Besides English, I can also speak Spanish, Russian and passable Greek."

O'Bannon drew his head back in awe. Damn, she spoke _five_ languages! _And here I have enough trouble with English._

"Unfortunately," Mireet continued. "The language barrier is not the only reason some of my classmates choose to insulate themselves from the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students. They feel it is a waste of time getting to know them, that there is nothing worthwhile they can offer us. But I believe that friendship is something worthwhile. How else can we learn that people are people no matter what country they come from?"  
>He just stared at her, digesting everything she's said. Merlin's beard, that was deep.<p>

"I think you're absolutely right. I'm glad to see you're doing what you can to make new friends."

"I believe your hockey club will be an excellent opportunity for that." A frown flashed across her face. "I wish I could talk longer, but I should return to our carriage to shower and change. Dinner will begin shortly."

O'Bannon felt his insides collapse. To hell with dinner. He'd gladly starve if it meant talking longer with Mireet.

"Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for giving the club a chance."

"It was wonderful meeting you as well. I look forward to playing this game again."

"Cool. I'll, uh, see you around."

"_Oui. Au revoir."_

"Bye."

He watched Mireet walk back to the Beauxbatons carriage, unable to take his eyes off her. His insides soared. He couldn't believe there existed a witch with such a combination of beauty, athleticism, kindness, strength and intelligence.

_Mireet Miradeaux, will you marry me?_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	19. A Date in Hogsmeade

**CHAPTER 19: A DATE IN HOGSMEADE**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon dropped off his hockey gear in his room, showered and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner. The entire time, he wore a huge grin. It remained with him as he strolled into the Great Hall, nearly oblivious to the constant clinking of silverware and the din of conversation. One thought, or rather one person, dominated his mind. Mireet Miradeaux.<p>

_My God, could she be any more awesome?_

He spotted her sitting with the rest of the Beauxbatons contingent at the Ravenclaw table. They made eye contact. He waved to her and she waved back. His smile grew wider.

He saw an open seat next to Lee Jordan at the Gryffindor table and plopped down. The grin remained as he ate his roast pork and potatoes.

"What are so happy about?" Seamus asked him.

"Wow, you must've really enjoyed the hockey club today," Dean said.

"Oh, I think Jimmy Boy here enjoyed a lot more than hockey today." Fred gave him a knowing grin.

"I believe you're right, Fred," George said. "I think he also enjoyed the company of a certain tall, blond French witch."

O'Bannon stopped chewing and turned to him. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed Alicia, who sat across from him, lean across the table with an expectant look.

"Soooo?" She drew out the word.

"Soooo . . . what?"

Alicia gave an exasperated gasp. "So, is what Fred and George saying true? Do you fancy that Mireet girl?"

"Ahhhh, well. Um, I mean, she seems really nice, and really smart, and she's gorgeous, and, um . . ."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "A simple 'yes' would have done nicely."

"Oh, um, yeah."

"Blimey," Lee chuckled. "You come here to Britain and what do you do? You fall for a French bird."

O'Bannon swore he saw Katie Bell briefly frown.

"Oh shush, Lee." Angelina scolded him before looking to O'Bannon. "I think it's sweet. Mireet seems like a nice person. Not at all snotty like that Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour. Not that that's stopped most of the boys here from turning into drooling dolts when they see her."

"What do you expect?" said Dean. "She bloody fit!"

Angelina shot him a scathing look.

"So are you going to ask her out?" asked Alicia, who wore an anxious expression.

"Huh? Um, well, I just started talking to her. I mean, would it be too soon?"

"There's no such thing as too soon with a witch like that." Fred nodded in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, specifically at Mireet. "You don't scoop her up now, some other bloke will."

"Or," Angelina jumped in. "If you want to win her over, ignore this git," she jerked her head at Fred, "and take a girl's advice."

"Okay."

"Look, we have another Hogsmeade trip this Saturday. Just before we head down there, ask Mireet to join us. We'll all go down as a group and there won't be the sort of pressure from being on a date. You two can relax and get to know one another better, then go from there."

"That sounds like a good idea. All right, I'll give it a shot."

"Smashing." Angelina smiled.

"I hope it works out for you, Jimmy." Alicia patted him on the hand.

"Yeah." Katie nodded.

"Of course it will work out," said Fred.

"Absolutely," said George. "What woman can resist that Boston accent with its distinct lack of the letter R?"

"Ha, ha, ha." O'Bannon rolled his eyes, then glanced at the Ravenclaw table. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Mireet talking to one of her Beauxbatons classmates.

_God, I hope this works out._

**XXXXX**

When O'Bannon woke up on Saturday, a nervous feeling wound through his insides. All he could think about was his "sort of" date with Mireet. What would they talk about? Would she like him more after today? Would he do something to make an ass out of himself?

He didn't eat much for breakfast. Afterwards, he tried to work on his Potions essay before heading to Hogsmeade. But his mind was more on Mireet than on the negative affects of taking too much Felix Felicis, or Luck Potion.

Just before eleven, he put on his jacket and ski cap and headed downstairs. Quincy Questor, however, remained at his desk, with a stack of books next to him and writing on a piece of parchment. O'Bannon tried to feel sorry for the guy for being so obsessed with good grades, but it was hard to be sympathetic to a guy who was such an anti-social dipstick.

All the students from Third Year on up, along with those from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, gathered in front of the castle. O'Bannon strolled over to Fred and George and the others, scanning the group of Beauxbatons students, who all wore heavy coats or cloaks. It didn't take long to spot Mireet. Given her height and her long blond hair, she stood out from the crowd.

He took a deep breath. _What if she doesn't want to join us? What if she has plans with some friends from Beauxbatons?_

_You won't know unless you ask._

"Um, hey, Mireet."

She turned around and smiled that beautiful smile of hers. It sent a tingle through his body.

"Good morning, Jimmy. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Hey, um, I was wondering if, uh, you wanted to join us, going to Hogsmeade. You know, Fred, George, Ang and the rest. They, um, they know their way around the town there, and, um, I thought you might enjoy hanging with us."

Surprise flashed over her face. Silence hung in the air for an eternity. He tensed, waiting for an answer, dreading it would be, "No."

"I would love to." Her face brightened. "Thank you for asking me."

Joy swelled inside him. He felt like he could jump twenty feet in the air right now.

"Cool." He led her over to the others, who greeted her.

"I think you'll enjoy Hogsmeade, Mireet," Alicia said. "Lots of wonderful shops there. And afterwards we can go to The Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer."

"That sounds like fun. I look forward to it."

The students followed the teachers through the gates and down the forest path leading to Hogsmeade.

"You are fortunate to have a village close to your school," Mireet said. "Beauxbatons is in a rather secluded part of Southern France."

"Bummer," O'Bannon responded. "So you guys are stuck at your school all year?"

"_Oui. _Beauxbatons is a beautiful school, but it would be nice to get away every once in a while. What about you? Do you have a village near Salem?"

"Yeah. It's called Ovenderburg. It's even bigger than Hogsmeade. Pretty cool place, though they don't have a store that has fudge better than Honeydukes."

"I take it this fudge is good?"

"Good? It's wicked pissah!"

Mireet cranked an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"Oh. Um, that means it's really good. Sorry, it's a New England thing."

Mireet softly chuckled. "An interesting phrase. How do you say it? _Wee-kid pee-saar?"_

"Wicked pissah."

He spent the next minute helping her say it correctly, and having a few laughs over it.

"I felt I spoke English very well. It seems I still have much to learn about your language."

"Just the more colorful aspects of it."

"Or do you mean the more fun aspects of it?" She shot him a wry grin.

O'Bannon's eyes widened. He laughed, and she joined in. On top of everything else, Mireet had a great sense of humor.

The group's first stop was at Honeydukes. Mireet came to a halt just two steps through the door, mouth agape as she stared at the numerous shelves overflowing with candy and sweets.

"Impressive," she whispered in awe.

"More than impressive." Angelina smiled at her. "You should get one of the Candy Castles. It has a chocolate dragon you have to catch in five minutes, otherwise the castle transforms into a mound of dirt."

"Which isn't all that bad if you like to eat dirt," Fred remarked.

"Disgusting." Katie made a face. "Who in their right mind would eat dirt?"

"You never know, Bell," said George. "All sorts of strange people in the world who eat strange things."

Fred leaned in closer to them and lowered his voice. "When Ron was little, he sometimes snuck outside and ate grass."

All the girls let out loud, "Ewwws." Mireet grimaced, and asked, "Who is this Ron?"

"Ickle Ronniekins is our youngest brother," Fred answered.

"Who's behaving like an utter git right now." Anger lines etched into Ginny's freckled face. "He still won't talk to Harry. He thinks Harry won't let him in on his secret on how got into the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Merlin's beard, he can be so thick."

"We think Mum and Dad adopted him," Fred said. "Same with our other brother, Percy."

"Lucky for you he graduated last year," George added. "So you don't have to deal with him."

"Wish we were that fortunate." Fred frowned.

Mireet's lips pressed together. Her gaze fell to the floor.

O'Bannon cocked his head to the side. He was about to ask if she was all right when she lifted her head and looked to Angelina. "So where are these Candy Castles you spoke of?"

"This way." Angelina led Mireet down the appropriate aisle. O'Bannon followed, still puzzled by Mireet's reaction.

His concerns faded when Mireet bought her Candy Castle and he cheered her on as she tried to catch the chocolate dragon. It was not an easy task. The thing whipped around like a Golden Snitch. But with under a minute to spare, Mireet snagged the chocolate dragon and enjoyed her Candy Castle instead of a mound of dirt.

Next they bought handfuls of fudge. Many times, they broke off pieces and shared them with one another.

"Marshmallow and raspberry." Mireet's eyes lit up in both surprise and delight. "What a unique combination."

"I told you this fudge was wicked pissah," O'Bannon said as he took a bite of his caramel and banana fudge.

"_Oui_, it is very much . . . _wee-ked pee-saah."_

They both shared a laugh. O'Bannon felt a hitch in his breath. Even Mireet's laugh was sexy.

The group browsed some other shops, including Spintwitches, where he and Mireet checked out a rack of Firebolt brooms.

"I can only imagine what my grandfather could have done with a broom this fast." Mireet gazed at the Firebolt.

"Your granddad was a Quidditch player?"

"_Oui. _He played professionally for fifteen years. He was even on one of our World Cup teams."

"Wicked pissah. What did he play?"

"Chaser."

"So what does he do now?"

"He had been the flying instructor at Beauxbatons for many years. When he retired, he became the flying coach for our national team."

"Damn, that is so cool. So do you plan on following in his footsteps?"

Mireet exhaled slowly. "I have thought about it. Who has not thought about playing Quidditch professionally? But when I graduate, I would like to have a job where I can travel around the world, perhaps something with one of our Ministry's international departments. I also wonder if I have what it takes to play at such a high level."

"You don't know unless you try," O'Bannon said.

She looked to him. "What about you? Are there professional hockey leagues you wish to play in?"

"Heck yeah. The NHL is the best one in the world. That's the league my Bruins play in. I've always dreamed about playing for them since I was a kid. But being in the Wizarding World, playing what in the Muggle World would amount to recreational hockey, I don't know if I'd have a real shot at making it in any pro league in North America."

"As you say, you do not know unless you try."

O'Bannon shot her a half-grin. _"Touché. _Anyhow, the big problem is my size. Compared to the guys in the NHL, I'm a shrimp."

"I think you are fine the way you are."

The breath stuck in O'Bannon's throat. His stomach flipped over. Mireet smiled shyly and turned away.

"Um . . . thanks," he muttered.

A moment passed before Mireet turned back to him. "You are welcome."

Their next stop was The Three Broomsticks. Students packed one end of the pub to the other. O'Bannon wondered if they'd be able to find a table. Luckily, he spotted one near the far end of the pub. A table for two.

He tensed. This was supposed to be a group outing. Would Mireet hesitate to be at a table with just him?

_Well, only one way to find out._

"Hey, there's a table way over there." He pointed it out to Mireet.

"Wonderful. Let's get it before someone else does."

O'Bannon sensed no hesitation in her response. That had to be a good sign.

They wound their way through the mob of students. Along the way they passed Ernie MacMillan and a pink-cheeked girl with blond pigtails swapping Chocolate Frog cards. Both wore "Support Cedric Diggory" buttons. Just as Ernie passed a card to the girl, he looked up at him.

"Ernie." O'Bannon nodded at him.

MacMillan nodded back. "Hello, Jimmy."

The Hufflepuff's tone was rather stiff, but O'Bannon considered it an improvement from their first contentious conversations.

When they reached their table, O'Bannon headed over to the bar and returned a few minutes later with two mugs of butterbeer.

"_Merci," _said Mireet, taking a sip.

He flexed his hand on the mug's handle, trying to think of something to say. "So, um, tell me a little more about Beauxbatons. What's it like?"

Mireet described the school as a glittering palace with huge windows and high ceilings adorned with chandeliers, where wood nymphs serenaded the students during meal times. O'Bannon listened with wide-eyed fascination, praying Mireet didn't ask him what the Salem Witches Institute was like.

She, of course, did. He tried to put a good spin on his school, but doubted a campus made up of red-and-white colonial-style buildings surrounded by woods could compare to a friggin' palace.

"That sounds very quaint," Mireet said. He tried to judge from her tone whether she was sincere or if she said it just to be nice. The more he thought about it, the more she sounded sincere.

"So what made you want to leave Salem and come to Hogwarts?" Mireet asked.

O'Bannon drank some butterbeer before answering. "I thought it would be a cool opportunity. Study abroad, go someplace different, meet new people. And also, part of me's been kinda fascinated by this school."

"How so?"

"When I was ten, a friend of mine showed me this picture book of famous wizarding schools. Obviously Hogwarts was in it. I thought the castle looked really cool. Then I read about its history, some of the famous witches and wizards who studied here, I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to actually be here. Then when my headmistress announced they were offering one student the chance to study here for a whole year, I said, what the hell, let's go for it."

He sat back in his chair and emitted a quick, snorting laugh. "Granted, a couple months ago I thought coming here was a big mistake."

"And now?"

O'Bannon stared directly at her. "I think it was the best decision I ever made in my life."

Mireet grinned and dropped her gaze to the table. She wrapped her hands around her mug. Was she blushing?

She took a slow breath and looked back up at him. "I am very glad I came to Hogwarts as well, even though I was not chosen for the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"So what made you wanna try to enter that?"

"As I have said before, I like a challenge. I have been at Beauxbatons six years now, and feel I have done well in all my classes. But it is one thing to conjure brick walls or cast Stunning Spells in a classroom. It is another to perform them under more . . . intense circumstances."

"I've read a bunch of stuff about the Tri-Wizard Tournament," O'Bannon said. "To call some of those tasks intense is an understatement."

"I researched the tournament as well before deciding to enter." She leaned across the table a bit. "In all honesty, I doubt I would have entered if they did not have measures in place to ensure no one dies as in previous tournaments. I like challenges, but I am not stupid."

"I like that logic."

Mireet grinned. "So what about you? Did you have any desire to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"I don't turn sixteen for another two months, and even then I still wouldn't be old enough to enter."

"But if you could, would you?"

He chewed on his lip. If he said no, that might make him look like a wimp. But saying yes would be a lie, and Rosa had told him once, "A smart witch can spot a faker a mile away."

Mireet was most definitely a smart witch.

O'Bannon took a breath. "I don't know. I think part of me has the same kind of thoughts you do. It would be a hell of a challenge." He paused. "Come to think of it . . ."

"What?"

He took another swallow of his butterbeer. "One of my best friends back at Salem, Jared, his mom's an auror, fought in the war. One time I was over their house and talking to her, and she was telling me about some of the people she fought alongside, people who weren't aurors or didn't work in any kind of magical protection job. She said sometimes when ordinary people get thrown into extraordinary circumstances, they discover they're braver and tougher and more resourceful than they ever dreamed of. Sometimes I wonder if I was in a war or something, if I could be like that. Not be afraid and do what I gotta do."

"I'm sure you would."

He smiled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I mean it. When I watched you play before the Muggle Studies class, you were tenacious trying to get that _pook."_

O'Bannon swallowed. Merlin's beard, he loved how she said "puck."

Mireet continued. "You are also a good leader, given how you organized this hockey club."

"Thanks, but I think fighting a war is a hell of a lot different from playing hockey."

She lifted her mug. "Here is hoping we do not find that out first hand."

They clinked their mugs together and drank the last of their butterbeer.

"I'll get us another round," he offered.

"_Merci." _

He got up and started toward the bar. He paused and looked over his shoulder at Mireet, who smiled at him. His insides turned to jelly.

_Man, this is going great._

O'Bannon smiled back and took a couple steps forward.

He bumped into someone. A girl, judging by the high-pitched, surprised scream. He looked in front of him. The two mugs of butterbeer the girl had been holding jammed against her chest, their contents soaking her robes.

"Oh my God! Aw jeez, I'm sorry about that." He was about to offer to pay for two more butterbeers when he recognized the girl's scowling face.

Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin.

"You stupid Mudblood! Look what you did!"

O'Bannon clenched his jaw, the word making his blood boil. Had Pansy been a guy, she'd be missing some teeth right now.

"I did say I'm sorry, although now I take it back."

Pansy glowered at him.

"Pardon." Mireet approached, a harsh gaze aimed at Pansy. "Must you use such an uncivilized word?"

"Oh Merlin, don't tell me you're another damn Mudblood."

"I happen to be pureblood, but I do not use such distasteful language, or judge witches and wizards by their blood status."

Pansy was about to say something when a familiar voice cut through the air. "What's going on?"

Draco Malfoy stomped over to them, flanked by his goons Crabbe and Goyle. His eyes widened when he saw Pansy's butterbeer-dampened robes.

"What's the big idea, O'Bannon? Pouring butterbeer all over my date?"

"It was an accident, you jackass."

"Don't you dare insult me! Now apologize to Pansy and get us some fresh butterbeers."

"Blow it out your ass."

Malfoy shook with anger. "You'd better do what I say, Mudblood, or else." He glanced at Crabbe and Goyle. Both behemoths stepped toward O'Bannon.

"I would be interested to see how tough you are without your pet trolls at your side," Mireet said.

O'Bannon turned to her. This witch definitely had some fire in her.

He liked that. He liked that a lot.

"No one asked you." Malfoy sneered at Mireet. "You call yourself a pureblood, yet here you are whoring around with a Mudblood."

Outrage blazed across Mireet's face.

O'Bannon felt the fury burn white hot inside him. He balled his fists. Did that ferrety little jagoff call Mireet a whore?

"Quit standing there like an idiot, Mudblood!" Malfoy barked. "You and your whore get us some -"

"Draco Malfoy!" A curvy, attractive woman with brown hair stalked over to them. Madam Rosmerta, the owner of The Three Broomsticks. "I've told you before I won't tolerate language like that in my establishment. Now out with you."

"You can't throw me out. Do you know who my father is?"

"If he is anything like you," said Mireet, "then he must be a bullying, elitist ass."

O'Bannon doubled over in laughter. He then pointed at Malfoy. "Dude! Burn!"

Malfoy bared his teeth. He screamed insults and words that made several girls, and a few guys, drop their jaws in shock.

"OUT!" Madam Rosmerta hollered. "I'll not have such filthy language in here, especially from a Hogwarts student!"

"My father will -"

"Your father doesn't run this pub, I do!" Madam Rosmerta took out her wand. "Now either walk out of here, or else I'll fling you out."

Malfoy glared at Madam Rosmerta. "I won't forget this. You'll be sorry one day." He whipped his head toward O'Bannon and Mireet. "That goes the same for you two. You'd best watch yourselves at school."

Mireet gave an undignified snort.

"Yeah, I'm shaking in my boots," said O'Bannon. "Don't let the door hit you in the butt on the way out."

With a final, parting scowl, Malfoy headed for the door, followed by a still drenched Pansy, and Crabbe and Goyle. Several Hogwarts students applauded their departure. Most were Gryffindors, but O'Bannon noticed a fair share of Hufflepuffs clapping and cheering.

_That's probably the first thing they've agreed on in almost a month._

He turned to Madam Rosmerta. "Um, sorry about the trouble here."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "Oh, you've nothing to apologize for, dear. I'm sorry you and your pretty lady friend had to put up with that dreadful boy. Please, let me make it up to you. Two butterbeers, on the house."

"Wow. Thank you."

"_Merci. _That is very kind of you."

"Oh, no trouble at all. You just sit back down and enjoy one another's company, and I'll get those butterbeers."

Madam Rosmerta sashayed back to the bar.

_Man, she's got a nice ass._

He swallowed. _Dude, don't be looking at Madam Rosmerta's ass when you're here with Mireet._

"Sorry about all that with Malfoy," he said to Mireet as they both sat down.

She waved off the apology. "You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, we will have a humorous story of our day together."

O'Bannon smiled, taking special note of the phrase, "our day together."

By mid-afternoon the teachers gathered the students and led them back to Hogwarts. Ron, who'd been sitting with Fred, George and Lee at The Three Broomsticks, hurried over to him and Mireet, gawking at the French witch. "That was bloody brilliant, getting Malfoy thrown out of The Three Broomsticks."

"Yeah, we saw the whole thing," Fred told her. "You're my new hero, Mireet."

"_Merci."_ She smiled at him.

"You're spot on about Malfoy's father," George noted. "He's a pureblood fanatic. Should've been sent to Azkaban for being a Death Eater, but they couldn't get enough evidence on him."

"I bet if You-Know-Who was still around, that jagoff Malfoy would be runnin' around with a snake tattoo on his arm."

"Don't you know it," said Ron.

As they neared the castle, O'Bannon offered to walk Mireet back to the Beauxbatons carriage. To his delight, she accepted.

"I enjoyed our time together today," she told him as they neared the carriage.

A bolt of absolute joy shot through him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out for a few seconds.

"Um, I . . . I. Yeah, so did I. It was a great time. Maybe, um, maybe we can do it again."

Mireet said nothing. Nervousness replaced O'Bannon's joy. Why was she hesitating?

"I would like that," she finally answered.

Relief flooded his insides. "Cool. Well, um, I guess I'll see you in the Great Hall for dinner."

"_Au revoir."_ Mireet smiled, took a step forward, then paused. She took a breath, then crossed the short distance between them. She gently put her hands on his shoulders and brushed her lips against both his cheeks.

O'Bannon's heart threatened to pound through his chest. He watched, mouth agape, as a smiling Mireet headed into the carriage. He just stood there and drew a staggered breath, his cheeks tingling from her kisses.

_She kissed me._

Okay, it was on the cheeks and not the lips, but still . . .

He strolled back to the castle, practically in a daze. What a great day this had been.

Scratch that. This wasn't a great day.

It was a friggin' awesome day!

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	20. The First Task

**CHAPTER 20: THE FIRST TASK**

* * *

><p>If anything could get O'Bannon's mind off Mireet Miradeaux, it was the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.<p>

At least, to some extent.

Thoughts of how awesome the French witch was ran parallel to wondering how Harry would fare, and what exactly he'd have to face.

Excitement and tension permeated the Gryffindor table as he ate breakfast. Fred, George and Lee appeared confident Harry would do well. Alicia and Katie tried to sound as confident as the guys, but O'Bannon detected worry in their voices. Ginny and Hermione did nothing to hide their concern.

Then there was Harry, who seemed oblivious to the world around him. O'Bannon wondered if it would have made things easier for Harry if he knew what exactly he'd be facing. Or, considering what creatures had been used in previous Tri-Wizard Tournaments, would it make him even more terrified?

"Good luck, Harry." O'Bannon slapped him on the shoulder before heading to class. Harry, though, didn't acknowledge him.

No one seemed able to keep their mind on schoolwork, O'Bannon included. In Herbology class he spent more time in whispered conversations with Fred, George and Lee about the first task than concentrating on extracting Lehrkring Root sap. Actually, most of the students whispered amongst themselves about the upcoming task. Professor Sprout did nothing to quiet them, instead sitting at her desk and doing paperwork. She probably knew everyone would be too caught up in the Tri-Wizard Tournament to care about her class.

Hagrid seemed to understand that, too. He just had the Care of Magical Creatures class serve buckets of single-malt whiskey to the Abraxans that had flown the Beauxbatons carriage to Hogwarts. Again it gave the students a chance to talk about the Tournament.

"I'm rather worried about Harry," Alicia said as she refilled her bucket. "Did you see him at breakfast? He looked absolutely terrified."

"Oh relax, Spinnet." Fred gave her a dismissive wave. "Harry'll be fine."

"Yeah," George said. "He was the same way before his first Quidditch match. But what did he do? Caught the Snitch and won it for us."

"I don't know if you can compare Quidditch to the Tri-Wizard Tournament," O'Bannon said as his Abraxan drank so voraciously some of the whiskey spilled on his robes. "Have you seen some of the tasks they've had in the past?"

"Harry's resourceful," said Fred. "You watch. He'll come out on top and upstage Pretty Boy Diggory."

"Mm-hmm," O'Bannon responded as he went to refill his bucket. He wondered if there was a potion that could take Fred and George's confidence and give it to Harry.

Because of the first task, classes ended earlier than normal. O'Bannon chucked his bookbag on his bed and followed the rest of the Gryffindors out of the castle and toward the forest. Even Quincy Questor had decided to pull his nose out of his books and watch the first task. Maybe there was hope for the guy.

No surprise, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs kept their distance from one another. O'Bannon didn't hear any snide remarks from either side, though he did notice quite a few students from both Houses exchanging glares. He also noticed most of the Hufflepuffs wore those "Support Cedric Diggory" buttons.

"Of course Krum is going to win," Malfoy's voice carried from a crowd of Slytherins. "That Delacour girl is a worthless tart. And Diggory? What the hell has any Hufflepuff ever done that was noteworthy? Potter will just wet his robes before he can even pull out his wand."  
>"Well, nobody asked you, Malfoy!" Seamus hollered at him.<p>

"Yeah!" barked Ernie MacMillan. "I'd like to see how you'd fare in this tournament."

"Especially since you won't have your twin gorillas to hide behind," said Lee. "Or that hag you call a girlfriend."

Laughter erupted, from both the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

"Shut up!" Pansy Parkinson shrieked. "Don't you dare talk about us like that!"

"'Don't you dare talk about us like that,'" George did a horrific impersonation of Pansy.

Everyone laughed louder, including O'Bannon. He looked over at a chuckling Katie Bell. "Wow, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs working together to rip on the Slytherins. Will wonders never cease?"

Katie turned to him. Her laughter faded. She tightened her lips, then nodded. "Um, yeah."

He furrowed his brow. Was it him, or had Katie become less talkative around him during the past week?

_Maybe she's got some stuff on her mind._

O'Bannon shrugged, wondering if he should ask her what was wrong.

Before he could decide one way or the other, he saw the Beauxbatons contingent approaching the huge grandstands near the forest. A smile spread across his face when he spotted Mireet. He pivoted away from Katie and headed over to her.

"Hey, Mireet!" He waved to her.

She turned. O'Bannon felt a hitch in his breath when he saw her face brighten.

"Jimmy." She split off from the other Beauxbatons students and walked toward him. A few of her classmates looked appalled that Mireet was going to see him. If she noticed any of their expressions, she ignored them.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Doin' fine. How about you?"

"Excited, and I must confess, nervous. I hope Fleur is prepared for whatever they have planned."

"Yeah, I'm hoping the same for Harry."

"And what about your school's other champion? Do you hope the same for him?" she asked in a playful tone.

O'Bannon's head slowly bobbed from side-to-side in thought. "Um, well, I hope Diggory doesn't get hurt bad or anything, but . . ." He patted the Gryffindor crest on his robes. "Gotta support my House, you know?"

"Of course, I understand. Though it is too bad for Hogwarts that neither of your champions will be able to outperform Fleur." She shot him a wry grin.

"Oh really?" O'Bannon folded his arms. "I think when one of our champions killed You-Know-Who while he was still in diapers, you gotta give the edge to him."

"We shall see."

They locked eyes for a few moments, then broke out laughing.

"Well, may the best champion win."

"_Merci."_

"I'll see you later, Mireet."

"_Au revoir, _Jimmy." With a parting smile, she turned and headed back to the Beauxbatons contingent.

O'Bannon walked backwards, his gaze still on Mireet_._ With her hair done up, he could admire the curve of her neck, the wisps of blond hair dancing with the wind, her lean, athletic frame that stood out even under her heavy cloak.

The other guys at Hogwarts could say all they wanted about Fleur Delacour, but for him, no one at this school, or in all of Europe, could be any more beautiful than Mireet Mira-

He never saw the bush behind him until he tripped over it.

"Ouff!" The air shot out of his lungs when his back slammed into the ground. Dozens of Hogwarts students, including Fred, George, Lee and Seamus, pointed and laughed at him.

O'Bannon scrambled to his feet, straightened out his robes and tried to make it look like nothing happened.

_God, I hope Mireet didn't see that._

He glanced over to the Beauxbatons contingent. Many of the French witches looked in his direction and giggled behind their hands. Mireet also stared at him.

_Damn. Smooth move, butthead._

Thankfully, Mireet didn't laugh. Instead she offered him a sympathetic smile before heading off to the grandstands. A couple of her female classmates said something to her. Mireet glared at them, said something back, and continued walking with her chin held high.

That put a smile on his face.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here, mate." Fred appeared by his side and clamped a hand on his shoulder. "But I don't think tripping over a wee bush is going to make you look desirable to a certain French witch."

"Aw, bite me."

Fred laughed off the insult and headed toward the grandstands. O'Bannon followed. He caught sight of Katie, who avoided eye contact with him.

His eyes widened when he entered the grandstands. A fenced enclosure stood before him. It reminded him of similar ones he'd seen at the Franklin Park Zoo in Boston, only bigger. Much, much bigger. Like so big a brontosaurus could fit in it. Clumps of rocks dotted the ground. At one end of the enclosure was a pit with several large, oval-shaped eggs, all of them white, except one. That one was gold.

"Bloody hell," Ron stammered.

O'Bannon looked down the row to Ron, who sat between George and Ginny. "What is it?

Ron stared unblinking at the eggs, mouth agape. His already fair skin turned almost chalk white. "Those . . . those are dragon eggs."

"What?" Lavender Brown, sitting in the row in front of them, spun around. "Dragon eggs? Are you sure?"

"Positive. Charlie's showed me some before."

O'Bannon recalled Charlie was the second oldest of the seven Weasley children. He also remembered what Fred and George told him about his occupation.

Charlie Weasley was a dragon keeper.

"I bet you anything that's what Charlie was talking about," said Fred.

"What was he talking about?" asked O'Bannon.

"Right before we got on the Hogwarts Express, he was saying how he might be seeing us sooner than we thought, and how he might see some of it."

"That big git!" George blurted. "He knew all along and he never told us. He's probably here at Hogwarts right now."

"But that means . . ." Ron visibly shook. "That means Harry's got to face a dragon."

"Nice to see you're so concerned about him now," Ginny snapped. "After you've spent the last month not talking to him."

Ron said nothing. He just leaned back in his seat, staring at the clutch of eggs.

O'Bannon let out a slow breath. Dragons. One of the deadliest creatures in the Wizarding World. What kind of precautions could the Ministry of Magic have taken to ensure none of the champions died?

_God help Harry._

_God help them all._

Fifteen minutes later, a man in yellow and black robes with a wasp imprinted on the chest appeared in an open air press box above the stands where the teachers sat. O'Bannon borrowed a pair of Omnioculars from Lee Jordan and aimed them at the press box. He instantly recognized the man. Ludo Bagman, decked out in the robes he probably wore during his Quidditch days with the Wilbourne Wasps. Though O'Bannon figured they fit him a lot better back then than they did now.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bagman's voice boomed throughout the stadium. "Welcome to the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I'm Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and of course, former Beater for the Wilbourne Wasps."

Several students let out loud cheers and applause. O'Bannon wondered if they were Wasp fans cheering more for the team than Bagman himself.

"As you see before you, there is a clutch of eggs, including a golden one. That is the egg each of the four champions must retrieve. Not that it will be easy, mind you. For those are dragon eggs. And each champion must get past an actual dragon in order to secure their prize."

Gasps and stunned voices rippled through the stadium. O'Bannon looked over to where the Beauxbatons students sat and clenched his jaw. He thanked God the goblet of fire didn't pick Mireet for the tournament. He didn't know how he'd be able to sit here and watch her face a dragon.

"Each champion will be judged according to the amount of time it takes to complete the task, the choice and effectiveness of their spells, and to what extent they can avoid injury."

O'Bannon couldn't help but grimace at that last one. Then again, from his readings on the Tri-Wizard Tournament, champions rarely came away unscathed.

"And now, for the moment all of you have waited for. The beginning of the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Enter . . . the dragon!"

Crackles of spells filtered out of the forest. So did another noise. A thunderous roar, one that made O'Bannon's hair stand on end.

Gasps and screams erupted throughout the stadium. O'Bannon held his breath when he saw it. Bluish-gray in color, with horns, razor-sharp teeth, thick scales, wings and a tail that ended in an arrow-shaped tip.

For the first time in his life, O'Bannon laid eyes on an actual, living dragon.

More screams burst from the stands when the beast let out a roar, flames shooting from its nostrils. O'Bannon recalled an old Sinbad movie he saw on cable years ago, where the hero had to fight a fire-breathing dragon. That Ray Harryhousen-created, stop motion model monster couldn't compare to what he saw before him. Had the movie Sinbad tried to fight this thing, he wouldn't last two seconds.

He prayed Harry and the other champions would fare better.

O'Bannon looked over to Fred and George. "You guys really wanted to enter this thing?"

Fred swallowed. "Not exactly our most brilliant idea, was it?"

George nodded. "I have to admit, I'm quite glad the goblet spat our names back out."

A few minutes later, Cedric Diggory stepped into the enclosure.

"Maybe he'll try to woo the dragon with his looks, then go for the egg," Fred joked, though O'Bannon noticed his normally humorous tone sounded a bit forced.

The dragon, a Swedish Short-Snout, immediately swung its head toward Diggory and roared. The Hufflepuff pointed his wand at the ground. Rows of jagged rocks sprouted from the ground and raced toward the dragon. It gave one flap of its wings and lifted off the ground. Diggory dashed toward a rock outcropping just as the dragon unleashed a stream of fire. He dove behind the rocks, narrowly avoiding the flames. With a flick of the wand two red comets shot from the tip and soared toward the top of the enclosure. The dragon watched them for a moment, then turned back to Diggory, who ran toward another rock outcropping. O'Bannon tensed as another burst of flames reached out for Diggory. At the last moment he erected a Shield Spell to deflect it. Hundreds of sighs of relief went up from the students.

The cat and mouse game continued for several minutes, with Diggory conjuring spell after spell to distract the Swedish Short-Snout. The dragon, however, would only pay attention to those distractions for mere moments before turning back to Diggory, keeping the Hufflepuff from getting close to the clutch.

After avoiding another stream of flames, Diggory pointed his wand at a rock on the ground. It shimmered and turned into . . .

"A dog?" O'Bannon cocked his head, staring at the dog, which looked like a border collie. It barked and jumped around, then sprinted across the enclosure.

"What's he gonna make it do?" Lee watched the scene with a puzzled look. "Pee on the dragon's leg?"

The dog continued to bark and run around. To O'Bannon's surprise, the dragon focused seemed entirely on the dog.

Diggory broke from his cover and ran for the eggs. He was just a few feet away from them when the Swedish Short-Snout whipped its head back toward him. Dozens of students screamed warnings at Diggory.

O'Bannon leaned forward in his seat as the dragon roared and breathed fire. Diggory leapt for the eggs. His hands grasped the golden one just as the flames blotted him out.

High-pitched screams pierced the air, including ones from Alicia, Katie and Ginny. O'Bannon clenched his jaw until he saw Diggory roll across the ground, still alive. His robes were smoldering and he held the left side of his face. In spite of that, he dashed toward the exit, cradling the egg in his arm like a running back would a football. The dragon shot another stream of fire at Diggory. He dodged it and ran out of the enclosure.

The Hufflepuff section exploded in wild cheers. The Ravenclaws also applauded. So did the Gryffindor, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Rival or not, they had to give some respect to Diggory's efforts.

The Slytherins, however, looked miserable. They probably would have cheered had Diggory wound up resembling a piece of burnt toast.

"Do you think Harry really has a chance?" Ginny looked to her brothers. O'Bannon swore she had tears in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Gin. Harry'll manage," George tried to reassure his sister.

"Uh-huh," Ron muttered as he fidgeted in his chair.

Fleur Delacour was next, and had to take on a Welsh Green. She took longer than Diggory to grab her golden egg, mainly because she used some charm to put the dragon to sleep. It took five tries, but she finally succeeded. Almost. Just as Fleur grabbed the egg, the dragon snored, loosed a jet of flames, and scorched her robes before she could get away.

O'Bannon had to give her credit. Fleur Delacour proved to be more than just a pretty face.

Next came Viktor Krum, who went up against a Chinese Fireball. Unlike Diggory and Fleur, he went the brute force approach, shooting spells at the dragon's head until he nailed it right in the eye. The beast wailed and thrashed in pain, and stomped on some of its eggs. Krum waited until the dragon moved off before grabbing the golden egg and hurrying out of the enclosure.

When the applause died down and the judges revealed their scores – they had taken points off for the damaged eggs, except for Karkaroff, of course – O'Bannon let out a slow breath, nervousness growing inside him.

Harry Potter was next.

After a new clutch of eggs had been laid out, the last dragon entered the enclosure.

"Merlin's beard." Alicia's hands went up to her mouth. Katie's mouth fell open in shock. In the next row he saw Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil grasp each other's arms.

The last dragon was a Hungarian Horntail, the most vicious of all dragons.

"Aw, Harry, you poor bastard," O'Bannon said under his breath.

That's when he saw Harry enter the enclosure. The poor kid just stood frozen as he stared at the Horntail. The Gryffindors let loose raucous cheers. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws applauded, more out of politeness than anything else. The same with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. The Slytherins, no surprise, booed with the same zeal Red Sox fans boo the New York Yankees.

"C'mon, Harry!" Fred and George yelled.

"You can do it, Harry!" Dean Thomas cheered.

"Watch yourself, Harry!" Ginny hollered.

Both Harry and the Horntail eyed one another. Time seemed frozen, until Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the sky.

Nothing happened.

"Da'hell?" O'Bannon's face scrunched in confusion. No way could Harry Potter be that bad a wizard. Why didn't –

Something flashed out the corner of his eye. A broom, a Firebolt to be exact, rocketed into the enclosure and stopped next to Harry.

"Wicked pissah," O'Bannon said.

"Clever," stated Fred and George.

"A broom!" Bagman shouted into his magic megaphone. "Harry Potter used a Summoning Charm to retrieve his boom. A Firebolt, no less. Top-of-the-line broom. What a brilliant lad."

Harry jumped on the broom and shot into the air.

"Whoa!" O'Bannon blurted as he watched the young wizard soar higher and higher. For a second, he thought Harry would just fly away.

Then he dove right at the Horntail. The beast shot flames at him. Harry banked right and avoided them.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman shouted as the students around O'Bannon shrieked and gasped. "Are you watching this, Mister Krum?"

Harry soared higher in a circle. The dragon revolved its long neck. For a second, O'Bannon wondered if Harry's plan was to make it dizzy, then go for the egg.

It didn't work. When Harry dove toward the dragon, he avoided the tongue of flames, but not the pitchfork-like tail. It clipped Harry's shoulder. Nearly all the girls around him screamed. Hermione and Ginny buried their faces in their hands.

Harry teetered to the right, his broom dropping toward the ground.

"Pull up, man!" O'Bannon hollered through the din of cheers and screams. "Pull up!"

Harry did. He rose high above the enclosure and circled the Horntail.

O'Bannon shook his head, impressed. _Holy crud, that kid can fly. _And he was tough! How many other people could get hit by a dragon's tail and keep flying?

"You got this, Harry! You got this!" He clapped his hands. "Harry Potter!" _Clap clap clap-clap-clap. _Harry Potter!" _Clap clap clap-clap-clap. _"Harry Potter!" _Clap clap clap-clap-clap._

The students around him picked up on the chant. Soon almost every Gryffindor was doing it.

"HARRY POTTER!" _Clap Clap clap-clap-clap. _"HARRY POTTER!" _Clap Clap clap-clap-clap._

The Horntail roared and spread its wings. It took off after Harry. That's when he twisted around on his broom and plummeted toward the ground. The chanting came to an abrupt halt when it appeared Harry would plow into the rocks. But at the last second, he pulled up, reached out with both arms, and snatched the egg.

The Gryffindors went wild. Katie, Alicia and Angelina hugged one another. Hermione and Ginny screamed, held hands and jumped up and down. Ron alternated between clapping and pumping his fist. O'Bannon, the twins and Lee gave one another high-fives powerful enough to break bones.

"Merlin's friggin' snowy-white beard, he did it! He freakin' did it!"

"We told you he would, Jimmy Boy." Fred grinned at him.

"You just learned an important lesson," George added. "Never doubt the Weasley twins."

O'Bannon bowed in an exaggerated fashion. "From here on out, I will always defer to you two on all matters concerning Hogwarts."

The twins laughed and slapped him on the back.

When he lifted his head, he noticed Hermione pulling Ron toward the exit. He wondered if they were heading out to be with Harry.

Several minutes passed before the five judges raised their wands and conjured glowing numbers in the air. Harry's scores.

Madame Maxime gave him an eight. Crouch and Dumbledore both gave him a nine. The Gryffindors went out of their minds cheering. O'Bannon also noticed several Ravenclaws adding their voices to the cheers. Even a few Hufflepuffs applauded.

He didn't think it possible, but the cheering got louder when Ludo Bagman awarded Harry a perfect ten.

Then came Karkaroff. The Durmstrang headmaster conjured his score for Harry.

A four.

The boos and jeers that came from the Gryffindors were louder than any he'd ever heard at any Red Sox or Bruins game. And Boston sports fans knew how to boo.

"That's rubbish!" Fred shouted.

"You've got dung for brains, Karkaroff!" George yelled.

"What game were you watching, you stupid jagoff?" O'Bannon added.

"To hell with Karkaroff!" Dean screamed to be heard over the boos. "You add up all the points and Harry's tied with Krum for first!"

This mollified the booing, somewhat. Had that buttwipe Karkaroff had a fair bone in his body, Harry would be the undisputed winner. Still, first place was first place, even if you had to share it.

That put a big smile on O'Bannon's face. He surveyed the grandstands, taking in the faces of the Gryffindors, now cheering more than booing. His gaze then moved to the now empty enclosure. That's when the realization hit him. He had just witnessed history. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, had come in first in the first Tri-Wizard Tournament in centuries, and he had been there to see it with his own eyes. Damn, this was something he could tell his children about.

He suddenly had an image of standing beside Mireet's bedside while she cradled a newborn infant.

O'Bannon took a deep breath and smiled wider. As much as he missed Salem and his friends there, between the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Mireet Miradeaux, there was no place in the world he'd rather be right now than Hogwarts.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	21. Fancy That

**CHAPTER 21: FANCY THAT**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon remembered when he was eight and his parents took him to a Boston Bruins playoff game. They had beaten the Buffalo Sabres, and everyone around him had been euphoric.<p>

That was nothing compared to the way the Gryffindors acted as they headed out of the stadium.

They screamed, they danced, they embraced, they fired brightly-colored sparks from their wand, some of them spelling out "Harry Potter" or "Go Go Gryffindor!" Half-a-dozen girls O'Bannon didn't even know hugged him. He also got hugged by Parvati Patil, whom he probably hadn't said more than five words to since coming to Hogwarts.

Not that he was going to complain.

That last thought sent a jolt of guilt through him as Mireet's face formed in his mind's eye.

"Party in the common room!" Fred shouted.

"Must celebrate properly!" George added. He then shot sparks from his wand that formed the Gryffindor lion, which let out a roar. "And must let the world know that Gryffindor is number one!"

That caused another outbreak of cheers. O'Bannon noticed several Hufflepuffs nearby look over. Some frowned, some glared. One or two moved their lips. Because of the distance and the cheering around him, he couldn't hear what they said, but he doubted it was complementary of Gryffindor.

_Too __damn __bad._ As a Boston sports fan, he'd gone through plenty of big-game losses. You just had to get over it and move on.

Eventually.

Sometimes.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Creevey brothers, who bounced in front of him singing - off key – "Harry Potter did it! Harry Potter did it!"

"Hell yeah he did!" O'Bannon's fists shot into the air. He then high-fived the Creeveys, who sang even louder as they hopped away from him. That's when he spotted Katie and Alicia a few feet away. He rushed over to them, wrapped an arm around each of their waists, and squeezed.

"Was that friggin' awesome or what?"

Alicia let out a choked gasp. "Jimmy, you're crushing us."

"Sorry." He let go.

"Bloody hell, you really don't know your own strength, do you?" Alicia took a breath, then flashed him a smile.

He glanced over at Katie. She avoided eye contact with him. Was she blushing?

"Hey look! There's Charlie!" George blurted behind him. "Oy, Charlie!"

O'Bannon looked past the crowd of Gryffindors. A large, solidly built young man with blazing red hair and a mass of freckles on his face stood with his muscular arms folded, grinning in their direction.

"So, enjoy the first task?" asked Charlie Weasley.

"You bloody git!" Fred marched up to his older brother and whacked him on the arm. Charlie looked like he didn't feel it.

"You knew about this all along and didn't tell us, your own brothers." Fred gave Charlie a faux glare, as did George.

Charlie just grinned wider. "What, and spoil the surprise? Besides, I told you back at Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters this was all hush-hush."

"We wouldn't have told anyone," said Fred.

"Honest," George added.

"HA!" Charlie barked out a laugh. "There are girls who are better at keeping secrets than you two."

"Get stuffed, you sexist pig." Alicia narrowed her eyes at him.

"And I suppose you're an aspiring Secret Keeper, eh, Spinnet?"

Alicia looked even angrier, but said nothing.

"Oy, Charlie," Fred said. "Someone you must meet over here. This is our friend from across the pond, Jimmy O'Bannon. Jimmy, this is our brother Charlie."

"Nice to meet you." O'Bannon took Charlie's very large hand.

"Likewise. That's pretty interesting what you've done here, getting wizards and witches to play a Muggle sport. Dad was practically bouncing out of his chair last night at dinner talking about it. Loves Muggle stuff, he does."

"Thanks. So, um, if you don't mind me asking, what made you wanna work with dragons?"

"Are you kidding?" Charlie's entire face lit up. "They're dragons. All that strength and power. How deadly they are. The way they fly. The horns, the scales, the different colors. How can anyone not love dragons?"

O'Bannon stared at him for a few silent seconds before muttering, "Uh-huh." With all that exuberance talking about an animal, Charlie reminded him of that crazy Australian guy on TV who loved to play with crocodiles and poisonous snakes.

_Better __them __than __me. _O'Bannon couldn't imagine what would ever make him want to deal with deadly creatures, be they from the Wizarding or Muggle Worlds.

"Wish I could chat longer," said Charlie, "but must get back and help get the dragons ready for transport back to the preserve. Nice meeting you, Jimmy. Take care, everyone."

Charlie sprinted off toward the woods, faster than O'Bannon expected for someone his size.

The sun started to dip into the horizon by the time they made it back to the castle. When the Gryffindors reached their common room, none of them went upstairs to their rooms, save for Quincy Questor.

_Two __hours __without __studying, __it__'__s __probably __driving __him __crazy._

For everyone else, school work was the furthest thing from their minds. Dozens of conversations rippled through the common room, almost all of them about Harry's awesome flying. Fred, George and Lee raided the kitchen, coming away with armfuls of food and drink. Dean Thomas showed off his art skills again with several impressive magically drawn banners. One showed Harry flying around the Hungarian Horntail dodging bites and jets of fire. Another one displayed Cedric Diggory running around the stadium with his hair ablaze.

"Brilliant, Dean!" Seamus laughed and slapped his best friend on the shoulder. "Bloody brilliant!"

O'Bannon shook with laughter as he watched the illustrated version of Cedric Diggory running back and forth, flailing his arms as the flames on his hair grew bigger.

_I __can__'__t __resist._

He bounded over to the banner and stood under Cedric's distressed and fiery image.

"Oh no, my hair," he said in a tacky British accent. "I'm not pretty any more."

A collective howl of laughter engulfed the common room.

"Good one, Jimmy Boy!" Lee half-shouted, half-laughed.

O'Bannon laughed along with everyone else. Two months ago he never imagined being part of a scene like this. Times like this, he was amazed how far he'd come from when he first set foot inside Hogwarts, when nobody here would give him the time of day.

"Harry!"

That sounded like Ginny's voice. O'Bannon looked over the crowd of Gryffindors and spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione emerging from the portrait hole. Everyone exploded in cheers and yells. Lee Jordan set off some Filibuster's Fireworks. Blazing stars and comets and other shapes filled the air above them. The Gryffindors mobbed Harry, hugging him or slapping his back or mussing his already mussed black hair.

"You were marvelous, Harry!" Lavender Brown threw her arms around him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Harry swallowed and blushed.

"That was some really cool flying, Harry." Neville Longbottom shook his hand.

O'Bannon gave Harry a high-five so hard it made him wince. "Dude, you are the friggin' man! Viktor Krum's got nothin' on you!"

"Thank, Jimmy." Harry smiled and rubbed his hand.

Once everyone got their congratulations in, Harry grabbed all sorts of food and devoured it. O'Bannon figured taking on a dragon would burn up a ton of calories. He also noticed Harry and Ron sat together on one of the couches, talking like a pair of buddies would.

_I __guess __all __is __forgiven._

"Blimey, this is heavy." Lee hefted Harry's golden egg. "Open it, Harry. Go on! Let's just see what's inside."

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules."

Harry whispered something to Hermione. O'Bannon couldn't hear what it was, but it resulted in a guilty expression on Hermione's face.

"Yeah, go on, Harry!" Seamus hollered. "Open it!"

More Gryffindors echoed Seamus' request. Lee handed over the egg to Harry, who dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it.

O'Bannon stood on tip-toes, looking over shoulders and heads. He focused on the egg as Harry worked to pry it open. What could be in it? A note? A map? Some kind of creature? The anticipation swelled inside him.

The egg clicked open.

A loud, horrible screech burst from it. Everybody slapped their hands over their ears, O'Bannon included. Not that it helped. The screech drilled through his ears and into his brain. His knees buckled. He began to sink to the floor.

"Shut it!" He barely heard Fred over the screech.

A grimacing Harry managed to slam the egg shut. The noise stopped immediately.

"What was that?" Seamus asked as he lowered his hands from his ears.

"Holy friggin' crap!" O'Bannon rubbed his ears. "Man, I went to a Deadly Curses concert over the summer, and even they weren't this loud. And they're the loudest band in the Wizarding World."

"That sounded like a banshee," Seamus pointed out. "Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry."

"It was someone being tortured," said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

Now Neville began to shake. O'Bannon wondered why he seemed so terrified. It was as though he'd been hit with the Cruciatus Curse sometime in his life. But he doubted that could have happened.

"Don't be a prat, Neville," said George. "That's illegal. They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing. Maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower."

Several Gryffindors chuckled. O'Bannon turned to find Katie Bell next to him. He leaned closer to her. "Yo, Bell."

She turned to him. "Um, yes."

"Just curious. Fred and George seem to rip on their brother Percy a lot. Is he really that bad?"

"Yes. Yes, he is." She nodded.

O'Bannon stared at her, expecting her to say something else. Instead Katie looked down at the floor.

He was about to say something when a quick _pop_ caught his attention. He turned to the right and saw a large canary standing in the middle of the common room. "Oh, sorry, Neville," Fred shouted over the laughing Gryffindors. "I forgot, it was the custard creams we hexed."

O'Bannon's eyes widened. He looked down at the piece of candy he'd plucked off a plate a minute ago. Relief swept through him. It was a chocolate cream. He was safe. He popped it in his mouth as Neville molted and returned to normal. The lumpy-looking boy looked around the common room and joined in the laughter.

"Canary Creams!" Fred announced like a vendor at a Red Sox game. "George and I invented them! Seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

O'Bannon shook his head. _They __really __are __into __this __practical __joke __business, __aren__'__t __they?_ He wondered if they could really make a living selling such products.

He turned back to where Katie had been, only to see she had moved on and was talking to another one of her friends, a girl named Leanne.

His brow furrowed. What the heck was goin' on with Katie? She had been one of the first Gryffindors to give him a second chance. Now the normally talkative Fifth Year girl could barely say more than three words around him.

O'Bannon started over to her when he felt a tingling in his nose. He took out his wand and conjured a tissue as the sneeze built and built. He turned away and pressed the tissue over his nose.

The sneeze sounded like a bomb going off. A gusher of snot shot out his nose. The tissue disintegrated in his hand, now covered by a sticky, slimy mass.

The gusher of green ended a few seconds later. O'Bannon grimaced as he stared at the snot covering his hand and staining his robes. Several students stared at him, the female ones emitting sustained, "Ewwws."

One girl, however, screamed in horror.

O'Bannon looked up. _Oh __crap._

Alicia Spinnet stood ten feet away, completely covered in snot. Her shoulders rose and fell as she checked herself over, and screamed again.

"Oops," said Fred. "I forgot we put out some of our Snot-Rocket Specials. Sorry, Jimmy. Alicia."

Alicia slowly turned to Fred and George. O'Bannon expected a Killing Curse to shoot out of her eyes and strike down the twins.

"You prats! You sick, stupid prats! I'm going to kill you!"

Alicia let out another scream and stormed upstairs to the girls' dormitory.

O'Bannon looked over at Fred and George. "You two nimrods really think you're gonna get rich selling stuff like this?"

George beamed at him and looked around the room. "Snot-Rocket Specials. Five Sickles each. A bargain."

O'Bannon flipped him the middle finger and stalked off to a corner of the common room. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself.

"_Scourgify!__"_

The snot vanished from his hand and robes. His lips twisted as he stared at his now clean hand, thinking of the green goop that had been on it mere seconds ago. He wished he was into practical jokes as much as Fred and George. Then he could get those dipsticks back for this.

Grunting, he headed over to one of the tables where several bottles of butterbeer sat. He stopped when he spotted Katie, still talking to her friend Leanne.

_What__'__s __going __on __with __you, __Bell? _Why did she seem to clam up around him of late?

He needed to know. Right now. He was about to go up to Katie and ask her point blank about it. But would she tell him, or would she just brush it off with an, "everything's fine?"

_All __right, __then __we__'__ll __go __with __Plan __B._

O'Bannon scanned the common room until he spotted Angelina Johnson. She'd been good friends with Katie for years. If anyone knew what was bothering Katie, she would.

He wound his way through the mass of Gryffindors until he reached Angelina, who was talking with Lee.

"Hey, Ang. You got a sec?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Uh . . ." He looked to Lee. "No offense, Lee, but it's something I need to ask in private."

"No problem. I'll talk to you guys later." Lee headed off to rejoin Fred and George.

"What's wrong?" Concern spread over Angelina's face as she stared at O'Bannon.

"Well, it's not me. It's about Katie."

Her brow furrowed. "What about Katie?"

"Well, the last few days she's been acting, I don't know, uncomfortable around me. I try to talk to her and I'm lucky to get three words out of her. I mean, is she pissed at me or something, because I thought we were past the whole, 'everyone hate the American exchange student' thing."

Angelina bit her lip. She took a slow breath and lowered her gaze to the floor.

O'Bannon fought to not roll his eyes. _What __the __hell __now?_

"Come on." Angelina grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him forward, so hard he thought he'd come out of his shoes. Damn, this girl was strong!

Angelina dragged him over to one of the few deserted spots in the common room. She looked left to right, as though making sure no one was in ear shot. O'Bannon also checked around. No one was nearby. He looked back at Angelina.

"So, do I need top secret clearance to hear this or what?"

Angelina didn't appear to appreciate the wisecrack.

O'Bannon's shoulders sagged. "Look, what's goin' on? What's Katie's problem with me?"

"She doesn't have a problem with you."

"So she's not pissed at me."

"No." Angelina shook her head.

"Okay, then why does she have a problem talking to me?"

"Like I said, Katie isn't talking to you because she's upset with you. It's because she's . . ." Angelina licked her lips and looked away.

"She's what?"

Angelina took a slow breath and turned back to him. "Katie fancies you."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	22. Fire and Ice

**CHAPTER 22: FIRE AND ICE**

* * *

><p><em>Why does life have to be so friggin' complicated?<em>

O'Bannon snorted as he walked down the stairs to the common room. Hermione's voice carried from the couch by the fireplace. She was giving Ron a tongue-lashing. About what he didn't know. Hell, he had his own problems, like having the hots for one girl, while another girl had the hots for him.

_Katie __really __has __a __crush __on __me? _Why hadn't he seen that before? And what should he do about it? He knew he didn't feel the same way about Katie that she did about him. Not that such a thing was entirely out of the realm of possibility. Katie was very attractive, or "fit" as the Brits liked to say. Plus she was nice, outgoing, and not likely to stab him in the back like a certain witch back at Salem who he never wanted to lay eyes on again. Had things been different, he might have had his sights set on Katie.

But Katie didn't make his heart race, or make his legs turn to jelly, or make him pray to God he didn't say anything stupid.

Mireet Miradeaux did.

So how to let Katie know that without hurting her feelings? He wasn't going to tell her he wanted to be "just friends." Guys hated hearing that line. Was it the same for girls?

He sighed as he went through the portrait hole and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. What he wouldn't give for Rosa to be here. She'd have some good advice for him. Maybe he should write her. Unfortunately, Trans-Atlantic owl mail took a couple of weeks. This thing could come to a head before he ever got Rosa's response. He sure as hell couldn't go to Angelina or Alicia. They'd been friends with Katie for years. They'd probably try to set him up with Katie instead of telling him how to let her down gently.

_Looks __like __you__'__re __gonna __have __to __figure __this __out __on __your __own, __O__'__Bannon._

_God help me._

When Thursday rolled around, O'Bannon felt a twinge of homesickness, his first in quite a while. Today was Thanksgiving, celebrated by both Muggle and Wizarding America. Back at Salem there would be no classes, and the students would be treated to a huge feast with loads of turkey and stuffing and corn and pumpkin pie. Everyone stuffed themselves to the bursting point, then lounged around the dorms for the rest of the day. And every year, he and Jared and Artimus had to listen to Rosa complain how fat she'd gotten and how she'd have to run for weeks to burn off everything she'd eaten.

But here in Britain, it was just another Thursday, with classes, homework, and the usual three meals instead of a big, special feast. And mince pie for lunch was a poor substitute for turkey and gravy.

_At __least __today __is __hockey __club __day_. But he found it hard to enjoy being on the ice. Every time his eyes wandered over to Mireet, every time he admired her beauty and imagined kissing her, he worried Katie might be looking at him. How bad did she feel watching him watch Mireet?

He tried to keep himself from staring at Mireet. That caused another worry. If he ignored her, would that make her think he was no longer interested?

_Crap, __crap, __crap!_

"You still at this, Anthony? What, suddenly afraid of flying?"

O'Bannon glanced over his shoulder. Michael Corner and Terry Boot, the two Ravenclaw dillholes, had returned for another round of heckling.

He groaned and turned back to the ice, where Anthony Goldstein and Seamus Finnigan skated toward the goal, with Ginny Weasley and Susan Bones defending against them. Finnigan passed the puck to Goldstein, who peeled off to the left and took a shot at the net. Harkorth, playing goalie, turned and watched the puck sail through the air and onto the banks of the pond.

Corner and Boot howled with laughter.

"Come on now, Anthony," Boot spoke through fits of laughter. "When are you going to give this up and play a _real_ game? You know, like Floaty Balls."

The pair laughed even louder.

O'Bannon ground his teeth. Floaty Balls was a game for witches and wizards barely out of diapers.

_Ignore__ '__em._ Hell, he'd yelled worse things at the New York Yankees when they came to Fenway Park to play the Red Sox.

"Come on, guys," Anthony said to his friends. "You might think differently if you come down here and give this a go."

"Ha!" Boot nearly doubled over. "Your barking mad if you think I'll ever play this dumb game."

Anthony shrugged. "Your loss."

O'Bannon shook his head, wondering how Anthony could be friends with these two dumbasses.

Next Ernie MacMillan and Dean Thomas came down the ice, defended by Angelina and Katie. MacMillan tried to shoot between the Gryffindor girls, but Angelina got a stick on the puck and knocked it away.

"Merlin's beard, MacMillan," Corner said. "You can't win at Quidditch, Diggory can't win in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and you can't even get that black disc thing close to the net. You Hufflepuffs can't do anything right, can you?"

MacMillan's face turned beet read. He glared at Corner and Boot, shoulders rising and falling with angry breaths.

"At least Hufflepuff's got a champion in the tournament." MacMillan started toward them. "I didn't see the goblet pick anyone from Ravenclaw, which means that little cup is smarter than the two of you put together."

"Better to have no champion than one who embarrasses their House." Boot danced around and slapped at himself. "Ah! Ah! I'm on fire! I'm on fire!"

The two Ravenclaws shook with laughter.

MacMillan flung his stick to the ice and reached for his wand.

"I'll show you what a Hufflepuff can do!"

MacMillan aimed his wand at Corner and Boot. _"__Entomorphis!__"_

"_Protego!__"_

O'Bannon erected the Shield Charm a split-second before MacMillan's hex would have hit one of the Ravenclaws and turned them into an insect-like creature.

"Ernie, knock it off!" He skated over to him as fast as possible. He also noticed Susan and Justin Finch-Fletchley coming over as well. "Get a grip!"

"Tell them to knock it off!" MacMillan turned his scowling face toward him. "I'll not stand by and have my House insulted!"

MacMillan tried to skate around O'Bannon. He blocked his path until Susan and Justin came up behind the Hufflepuff and grabbed his shoulders.

"Ernie, please. Calm down," Susan urged him. "Just ignore them."

"I say let him go," Seamus said. "I'm tired of hearing those tossers go on meself."

"Susan's right." O'Bannon looked around at the hockey club members. "Just ignore 'em. Look, I've been to Bruins games with twenty thousand people screaming every insult you can imagine at the other team, and they don't get rattled by it. I think we can put up with these two jackasses without throwing punches or hexes. Now c'mon, let's get back to playing some hockey."

MacMillan backed away, though his glare remained on Corner and Boot. Susan and Justin eventually got him to turn around and skated with him to the middle of the pond.

"You handled that very well."

O'Bannon froze when he heard the silky French accent. His heartbeat quickened as he turned to find Mireet smiling at him.

"Uh . . . huh?"

"With Ernie, and those foolish boys. I think most boys would have let them hex one another. But you took care of it in a very mature manner."

"Uh, thanks."

"You are welcome." Mireet flashed him a smile and skated away.

An airy feeling formed in his chest and spread throughout his body. He watched Mireet go, admiring the sway of her hips as she skated.

_She __was __impressed __with __me. __She __thinks __I__'__m __mature._

A wide smiled formed on his face. This was officially one wicked awesome day.

He turned to the right, and the smile faded. He made eye contact with Katie, who quickly looked away and skated over to the other club members.

O'Bannon sighed. "Man, I just can't win."

**XXXXX**

December arrived with sleet and wind. No snow, yet, which disappointed O'Bannon. He wondered if Boston already had its first snowfall of the year. He smiled as he stared up at the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall during breakfast, wishing for snowflakes instead of sleet. Memories of his childhood played through his mind. God, he loved snow. Snow meant tobogganing and snowball fights and of course, non-magically frozen ponds for playing hockey.

"Oy, Jimmy." Fred waved his hand in front of O'Bannon's face. "You still with us here?"

He turned to Fred, slightly annoyed. "Dude, what? I was thinking."

"I bet you were," Fred grinned.

"Thinking about a tall, blond French witch, I imagine." George waggled his eyebrows.

O'Bannon started to grin, then caught sight of Katie frowning.

_Damn. _He still hadn't thought of a good way to let down Katie, and wondered if he ever would.

The following week in Transfiguration class, their assignment was to turn a dinner plate into a cat. The first couple of tries he did conjure a cat, though its fur resembled the yellow and blue flower pattern of the plate. On the third try the fur turned a normal-looking black. O'Bannon reached out and stroked the cat, wondering why Professor McGonagall gave them a rather easy assignment. She always liked to challenge the class. Challenge them or torture them. Some days it was hard to tell the difference.

He got his answer ten minutes before the bell rang, by which time everyone had successfully transfigured their plates into cats. Professor McGonagall had a special announcement to make.

"While the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is two months away, there is another event associated with the tournament that is rapidly approaching. The Yule Ball."

"Yule Ball?" Fred whispered. "Sounds rather formal."

"Wonder if they'll allow two blokes like us into something like that," said George.

"If they don't, we'll just crash the party."

McGonagall, thankfully, didn't hear the twins and continued. "This is a traditional part of the tournament and allows us to interact with our foreign guests in a social setting. The Ball is open to those students in Fourth Year or above, though you may invite a younger student if you choose."

"You mean like a date, Professor?" Simon Hurst's eyes widened behind his glasses.

"Yes, Mister Hurst. It will be like a date."

"And we'll be expected to dance?"

An annoyed look formed on McGonagall's face. "That is what one generally does at a ball."

Hurst went pale, the veins in his neck sticking out. He reminded O'Bannon of Harry in the days leading up to the first task.

"Dress robes will be worn," McGonagall told them. "The ball starts promptly at eight o'clock and ends at midnight in the Great Hall. The Yule Ball will be a chance for us all to, er, let down our hair, sort to speak."

O'Bannon smiled and nodded. He noticed huge grins spreading across the faces of Fred and George.

"But!" McGonagall raised her finger in an emphatic gesture. "That does not mean we will be relaxing our standards of behavior. The House of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizarding World for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons."

"Try saying that five times fast," Fred dared George.

"Babbling, bumbling band of baboons. Babbling, blumbling bland of blaboons. Babble-bumble . . ."

O'Bannon pressed a fist against his mouth and shook as he nearly burst out laughing.

"Is there a problem, Mister O'Bannon?" McGonagall glared at him.

"N-No, Professor." He shook his head, fighting to keep from laughing.

McGonagall maintained her stern expression as she continued looking at him. "This is exactly what I am talking about. I will be very, very displeased if any Gryffindor student embarrasses our House, or this school, in any way. I suggest you keep that in mind. Class dismissed."

Once they exited the classroom, O'Bannon punched George in the shoulder and glowered at Fred. "Thanks for getting me in trouble back there, you jackasses."

"Come on now." George grinned at him. "We're not the ones who made you laugh. Wait, on second thought, that's not true. We did make you laugh."

"Lighten up, Jimmy Boy," said Fred. "If you don't get yourself in trouble at least once a day, you're not trying hard enough."

O'Bannon shook his head. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to go out of their way to intentionally piss off a teacher. Especially a teacher like Professor McGonagall.

Later that day, when he and his friends entered the Great Hall for dinner, he noticed the place buzzed with excited conversations, mostly from the girls. Many of the guys, especially those younger than him, looked nervous. None more so than Harry and Ron.

"They're mad, I tell you," Ron said to Harry. "Barking mad. The whole lot of them."

"What are you on about?" George asked as he sat down.

"This whole Yule Ball thing. Didn't they tell you about it?"

"Yes," Alicia answered. "Professor McGonagall told us in Transfiguration class. I think it's a smashing idea. I can't wait for it."

Ron stared at Alicia like she'd just been caught making out with both Crabbe and Goyle. "You must be joking. They expect us to ask someone to go to this thing, and then dance with them?"

Hermione directed an aggravated look in Ron's direction.

O'Bannon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we have to ask some hot girl to go to the Yule Ball, then we gotta hold her real close for most of the night and dance with her, and maybe, just maybe, it might . . ." He glanced at the witches around him and figured he'd better watch his words. "It might lead to something . . . nice. Am I the only one here who thinks that doesn't suck?"

"I'm with you, Jimmy Boy." Fred's fist shot in the air.

"Me, too."

"Same here." George and Lee said at the same time.

Ron frowned and stared at his lamb chops. O'Bannon wondered if Ron thought no girl at Hogwarts would go with him. He then caught a glimpse of Harry, who also stared at his plate unsmiling. Could he be worried about the same thing, too?

O'Bannon dismissed that thought. This was Harry Friggin' Potter. The kid who took down Lord Voldemort. The kid who became the youngest Tri-Wizard Champion in history. There was probably a line of witches forming outside his dorm room at this very moment. Harry Potter would not have to sweat finding a date to the Yule Ball.

_Me __on __the __other __hand__.__.__._

He looked over at the Ravenclaw table, to the section where the Beauxbatons contingent sat. He took a staggered breath when he spotted Mireet. Would she say yes, or in her case _oui,_if he asked her to the ball? They got along great. She seemed to like him. Maybe she would say yes.

_And __if __she __does, __how __will __Katie __react?_

**XXXXX**

Over the next couple of days, O'Bannon could not find the opportunity to ask Mireet to the ball. The fact she, and the rest of the Beauxbatons contingent, had their classes in their carriage meant the only times he saw her was during meals. Even then she sat with the rest of her schoolmates. Would she ever be alone for more than a minute so he could ask her?

When he thought about asking Mireet to the Yule Ball, Katie hovered around his mind. Should he wait until he told her he didn't have feelings for her before asking out Mireet? But if he waited, would someone else ask her to the ball? Would she say yes to him?

_Someone __who __looks __like __Mireet __is __not __going __to __the __Yule __Ball __alone. _He damn sure didn't want to look across the dance floor and see her in the arms of some other guy.

At the same time, he didn't want to hurt Katie's feelings.

_Curse __you, __conscience!_

Then again, if he didn't have a conscience, he'd be like Draco Malfoy or Merak Mather, another elitist pureblood back at Salem. Not a very comforting thought.

Thursday afternoon, he grabbed his stick and skates and headed to the pond for hockey club, a little earlier than usual. Maybe Mireet would be there already, alone. Maybe he could ask her to the Yule Ball.

No such luck. Mireet was there, but she was talking to Angelina, Alicia and Ginny. O'Bannon noticed Katie hanging back a couple feet, part of the group, yet not at the same time.

He hoped a pick-up game would get his mind off his female dilemma. Hockey games had always provided him with a refuge to any problems he had going on. But a pick-up game did not have the same intensity as a real one. His thoughts sometimes wandered between Mireet and Katie. His play suffered, as demonstrated by two errant passes and a shot that went wide of net. After a while he had Justin take his place on the ice while he stood on the sidelines to refocus. It didn't work. Standing around instead of actually doing something only made him think about the whole Mireet/Katie thing even more.

"Look at this," said a voice from the banks. "Do you need any more proof that this school has become the joke of the Wizarding World?"

O'Bannon clenched his teeth. That hadn't been Corner or Boot with their usual heckling. He turned around. His anger grew when he saw a sneering Draco Malfoy near the pond, accompanied by a group of Slytherins. He recognized Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Miles Bletchley, Ares Urquhart, Hadar Gilbourne, Vaughn Dooley, and of course, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy never went anywhere without those slugs.

"I tell you." Malfoy looked around at the other Slytherins. "No sane headmaster would ever allow a Muggle game to be played at a school for magic."

"Then it's a good thing we have a headmaster here who's not entirely sane." Fred's comment elicited chuckles from some of the hockey club members, including O'Bannon.

"Maybe you should take some of those little black discs and make necklaces out of them, Weasley. You can peddle them in Diagon Alley. Maybe make a few knuts, which would be more than your father makes at the Ministry."

The other Slytherins laughed, though Hadar's and Dooley's laughs seemed forced.

"Shut it, you plonker!" Ginny yelled, her tiny fists clenched. O'Bannon knew the Weasleys were a pretty poor family. But he'd take any one of them over a rich a-hole like Malfoy any day.

Malfoy snorted. "You Weasleys. You're a disgrace to proper wizards and witches like us." He held out both hands and gestured to the Slytherins around him. "That goes for all of you playing this stupid game."

"If being a proper wizard means being like you I'd rather be a squib," Lee shot back.

O'Bannon's eyes widened. That was quite a comeback, considering squibs were people born into magical families, but did not have the ability to do magic themselves.

A half-disgusted, half-angry look formed on Malfoy's face. "Merlin's beard, it makes me sick being at the same school with all of you. If you had your way, Mudbloods would be running the entire Wizarding World. Merlin help us."

O'Bannon gripped his stick so tight he thought it would snap. He noticed Dean and Justin looked ready to pound or hex Malfoy.

"You call us a disgrace?" Mireet said. "You are the one who uses that repulsive word so casually. You are the one who mocks people because they are not as wealthy as you. I believe it is you who are a disgrace to proper witches and wizards, not us."

"Yeah, Mireet!" Fred cheered.

"Spot on," said Seamus.

Angelina and Alicia applauded. Even Katie smiled at the putdown.

Pansy Parkinson gaped at Mireet while Malfoy shook with rage. "How dare you speak to me like that, you Mudblood-loving bint?"

Fury burned through O'Bannon's veins. He'd been in Britain long enough to know what "bint" meant.

He skated toward the Slytherins. "Malfoy! I am gonna rip your ferrety little head off and crap down your neck!"

"I think you need to cool off, Mudblood."

Malfoy whipped out his wand and pointed it at the frozen pond. _"__Fundo!__"_

A flash of red washed across the pond. The ice beneath O'Bannon's feet vanished.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	23. Cold War

**CHAPTER 23: COLD WAR**

* * *

><p>Icy blades tore into O'Bannon. He shivered uncontrollably, fighting to tread water.<p>

"Help! Help! Colin, help!"

O'Bannon looked over his shoulder, his teeth chattering at a machine gun pace. Dennis Creevey flailed in the freezing water, trying to keep from going under. Dean came up behind him and held Dennis' head above water.

"Calm down, Dennis! I've got you!"

O'Bannon swept his eyes over the pond, each breath coming slowly as the intense cold squeezed his chest. Lee and Harkorth struggled to rip off their improvised goalie gear, their hands shaking as they did. Seamus and Katie both spat out mouthfuls of water.

Laughter erupted from the banks of the pond. O'Bannon turned to find Malfoy and the other Slytherins pointing and howling.

"B-B-B-Bastards," he said through chattering teeth.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, Mudblood." A grin spread across Malfoy's ferrety face as he pointed his wand at the pond again.

"_Fluctus!__"_

The water rippled. Those ripples grew into waves, each one between two to three feet tall. O'Bannon closed his mouth and held his breath as the first one smashed into him. The wave knocked him back and under the water. He kicked with trembling legs, trying to reach the surface. Just as he broke through the water and snatched a quick breath, another wave nailed him.

He coughed out icy water, swimming and shivering at the same time. His friends also bobbed in the water, wet hair matted on their heads and faces. All of them trembled violently.

O'Bannon reached for his wand. His hand wouldn't stop shaking.

"Me next!" Pansy blurted. "Me! Me!"

The short, dark-haired Slytherin aimed her wand at the pond. Snake-like water spouts rose several feet into the air, then arced over. O'Bannon's eyes widened as one dove right for him.

A roar consumed his ears. A hammer blow knocked him under the water. He kicked and stroked. His lungs burned. Panic seized him.

_I __don__'__t __wanna __drown._

He broke the surface and sucked down a lungful of air. Oh my God, he was so cold!

O'Bannon looked around. He spotted Fred and George, The Creeveys, Lee, Angelina, Ginny, Ernie, Susan, Justin, Anthony, Harkorth, Dean, Alicia.

There was no sign of Katie or Seamus.

Or Mireet.

Fear spread through him. He took a deep breath and prepared to go under.

That's when Mireet broke the surface, clutching Katie by the shoulder.

"Seamus!" Dean shouted. "Shay!"

A second later Seamus' head poked through the water.

_Get __those __bastards._

O'Bannon turned back to the Slytherins. He clutched his wand and pulled it out.

It slipped from his numb, trembling fingers and sank to the bottom.

George's arm rose from the water, wand in hand. He said something O'Bannon couldn't make out and made some jerky movements with his wand. A bolt of yellow light shot from the tip, fluttered through the air, and landed on the banks far from the Slytherins. It exploded into sparks and turned a patch of grass purple.

Frustration burned in O'Bannon. Chattering teeth and shaking hands made casting a proper hex next to impossible.

"All right, Gilbourne. Your turn."

Hadar Gilbourne stepped to the edge of the pond, an unsure look on his face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Malfoy shot the other boy a harsh look. "These Mudbloods and blood traitors have embarrassed me. Embarrassed our House. They need to pay."

Hadar just stared at O'Bannon, wand raised. The silence went on for several seconds.

"Dammit, Gilbourne. Do something!"

"Hadar!" O'Bannon called out, praying he could be understood through his chattering teeth. "Hadar, d-d-don't."

Hadar didn't move.

"D-Don't b-b-be M-Malfoy's lack-k-key. St-t-tand up f-f-for yourself."

"Are you going to listen to that Mudblood?" Malfoy glared at Hadar. "One word to my father from me and your father will get sacked. We'll make it so your family is even poorer than the Weasleys."

"Had-d-d-dar, don-"

"_Fluctus!__"_

More waves rushed toward O'Bannon and the others. He braced himself as the wall of water smashed into him. My God, he'd never been so cold in his life.

The Slytherins cheered and laughed. Malfoy nodded in satisfaction to Hadar as Ares Urquhart stepped toward the banks, a sadistic grin on his face.

"I've got a good one. Watch th-"

A blue flash lit up Urquhart. His legs shook and he collapsed.

Someone hit him with a Jelly-Leg Jinx.

Pansy spun around. A lime green bolt struck her. Seaweed grew from her hair and nose. She let out a piercing wail as a third bolt hit Goyle in the face. Eye crust grew from his lashes and spread across his face.

Malfoy yelped and sprinted away from the pond, nearly knocking down Millicent Bulstrode. The other Slytherins hurried after him, the crust-faced Goyle helped along by Crabbe.

O'Bannon's gaze shifted away from the retreating Slytherins, goose pimples stinging every inch of his flesh like icy needles. For a second, he thought he imagined the two young wizards running toward the pond.

It was Michael Corner and Terry Boot. He noticed the wands in their hands. Had those two Ravenclaw buttheads saved them?

"Hang on, Anthony!" Boot hollered. "I gotcha!"

He levitated Anthony Goldstein out of the pond and lowered him onto the grass. Corner used a Levitation Charm to pluck Ginny from the freezing water and bring her to shore.

Soon all the hockey club members had been lifted out of the water. O'Bannon curled up into a ball on the grass, hugging himself and shivering. It felt like someone had replaced his blood with ice. My God, would he ever be warm again?

Footsteps pounded around him. Corner and Boot, running, casting Warming and Drying Charms. They were actually helping them?

When Boot cast the charms on him, he felt warmer and drier, not completely warm and dry. He also didn't shiver as much.

"You lot all right?" asked Corner.

A few of the hockey club members responded with meek "yeses."

"They still look cold," Boot noted.

"I think we rushed through the incantations," Corner told him. "We didn't do them properly."

A pause. "Hagrid's cabin isn't far from here," Boot said. "Let's take them there."

The two Ravenclaws helped everyone to their feet and led them away from the pond. Even though Boot's charm had warmed up O'Bannon, his legs still felt like lead weights. Every step took effort. The same appeared true for the others. A few of them stumbled to the ground. He saw Mireet help up Katie and Lee try to keep a shivering Dennis on his feet. Ginny also crumpled.

"Here, I got you." Corner lifted her back up.

"Thanks." Ginny gave him a weak smile.

When they reached Hagrid's cabin, Corner knocked on the door.

"Wha' 'appened to you lot?" the giant Care of Magical Creatures teacher asked when he answered the door.

"M-Malfoy," O'Bannon said, his numb jaw making it difficult to talk.

"That slime Malfoy melted the ice under them," Boot explained. "Dumped them all into the pond."

"Blimey!" Hagrid's eyes widened. "Yer must be freezing. Get in here. I'll make yer some tea and get the fire going."

They all filed into the cabin. O'Bannon plopped down on a dusty cushioned chair large enough for two normal-sized people. Hagrid rushed about, grabbing furred cloaks and blankets while Boot and Corner threw more logs into the fireplace.

O'Bannon wrapped the blanket tight around his body. The thing smelled a bit moldy and had certainly seen better days, but it was warm. Right now, that was all that mattered to him.

The flames in the fireplace grew, heating the cabin's air to the point it felt a bit like a sauna. O'Bannon didn't mind one bit. Minutes later, Hagrid passed around cups of tea. The stuff tasted bland, but it was hot. Again, that was all that mattered to him. The feeling slowly returned to his legs and arms.

"Um, thanks for helping me back there at the pond, Mireet," Katie said, her eyes flickering in all directions, unable to settle on Mireet.

"It was no trouble." She sipped her tea, grimacing, probably from the lack of taste. But the expression soon vanished from her face. O'Bannon guessed she didn't want to seem unappreciative to Hagrid's help.

"Well, you lot are starting to look better," Corner said.

"Why?" Ernie looked up at him.

"Why what?"

"Why did you help us back there? All you've done is make fun of us for playing hockey."

"Look, taking the mickey out of you is one thing, but trying to drown you? That crosses the line."

"But why would Malfoy do that?" Hagrid asked.

"Because he's Draco Malfoy and he's a bloody plonker," Seamus growled. "What more reason do you need?"

Lines etched into Hagrid's bearded face. "Malfoy. Hmph! Bad egg, that one is. Then again, ter whole family's that way. Troublemakers. Worse than troublemakers."

"Well he's gonna be sorry he did that." Fred scowled. "We'll make sure of that."

Hagrid held up both his massive hands. "Now don' go doin' nuthin' that'll get yer in trouble."

Fred just grunted in response.

When they finally warmed up, they left Hagrid's cabin and hiked back to the pond. Angelina performed a Summoning Charm to retrieve not just O'Bannon's wand from the lake, but Lee's, Dennis', Harkorth's and Ginny's. By the time they got back to the castle, dinner was halfway over. O'Bannon figured by the time they went back to their dorms, changed, straightened up, and returned, all the food would be gone. So he and the others walked into the Great Hall with wrinkled clothes and mussed hair.

A roar of laughter went up from the Slytherin table. O'Bannon's eyes narrowed as he looked in their direction.

"You lot have a nice swim?" Malfoy hollered, then leaned back and laughed. Pansy sat next to him, cackling like the evil witch from _The __Wizard __of __Oz. _Many others pointed at O'Bannon and his friends. His entire body tensed, fury burning white hot. He took a step forward. So did Seamus and Dean. Fred, George and Lee went for their wands.

"Jimmy, don't." Mireet reached out and grasped his arm.

"No, stay here," Alicia urged them. "Put your wands away. Are you all daft? All the teachers are watching." She nodded toward the head table, where many of the teachers gazed at the Slytherins, then whispered between themselves. "If you try anything, you'll wind up in detention for a month."

Fred, George and Lee stared at her, looking like they were mentally debating whether or not to listen to her. In the end, they left their wands in their robes.

They split up and headed to their respective tables, the Slytherins still laughing. The other three tables remained quiet, though many of them gazed at the hockey club members, some offering sympathetic looks.

O'Bannon sat next to George and Angelina. He grabbed a roll and tore off half of it with his teeth. He chewed slowly and deliberately, staring at the Slytherin table. Their laughter had died down, but many of them looked toward the Gryffindor table and snickered amongst themselves.

O'Bannon crushed the remnants of his roll in his hand, the laughter fueling his rage like gasoline on a fire. He couldn't believe Malfoy took them by surprise like that. Bad enough he dumped them into a freezing pond, but then that jagoff and his slimebag friends hit them again and again with waves and water spouts. And they were helpless against them.

He was helpless.

Malfoy even called Mireet a bint, a Mudblood-loving bint. And he hadn't defended her honor. Instead he had to wait for Michael Corner and Terry Boot to pull his soaked, frozen ass out of the water, and even then all he could do was lie on the ground and shiver.

And the damn Slytherins were laughing about it. Laughing about it while he just sat here and chewed on a friggin' roll.

O'Bannon slammed his fist on the table. Plates rattled. Katie's and Lee's goblets toppled over. Half the Gryffindor table turned in his direction.

Nobody dared to say anything to him.

**XXXXX**

After dinner, O'Bannon retreated to his room to do his homework. Both Simon Hurst and Ian Eddleton said they were sorry for what happened to him and the others, then left him alone. He preferred that. Right now he wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

He spent a few hours trying to push his anger aside and get through his homework. He finished his essays for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms and thought about tackling the one for Potions, but decided he didn't have the mental energy for it. Besides, he hated Potions anyway, and hated the jagoff who taught it. He went to his trunk and dug out one of the Muggle novels his parents had sent him, one by Dale Brown. Perfect. After everything that had happened today, he was ready to stake out a quiet corner in the common room and read about US Air Force hi-tech warplanes blowing the crap out of everything.

When he got downstairs, he noticed Fred and George sitting on one of the couches, a piece of parchment lying on a table in front of them. Angelina, Katie, Lee, Ginny, Harry and Ron stood around them.

"Yo, what are you guys up to?" he asked.

Fred glanced at him. "Plotting."

"What'd ya mean 'plotting'?"

"Plotting revenge on that ferrety little git Malfoy and all his wanker friends."

"Yeah," said George. "So far, we've come up with sneaking Snot-Rocket Specials to them during dinner, or maybe setting up some Screaming Mimis outside their dormitory and keep them up all night. Or maybe we should do some more work on the Portable Swamp. Imagine Malfoy and his snakey mates up to their chins in muck."

"A prank?" O'Bannon threw out his arms. "That's your answer? A friggin' prank!"

"Well we have to get 'em back, Jimmy Boy," Fred told him.

"What, with a Screaming Mimi or some stupid joke candy? Those are the kinds of pranks you pull on people you like, not pricks like Malfoy and his Slytherins."

Fred leaned back into the couch. "Well, if you've got any other ideas, I'm all ears."

O'Bannon just stood there, scowling. Nothing came to mind beyond dragging Malfoy out of the Slytherin dormitory and pounding his face until he got bored.

"If we do something, we do it ourselves, not rely on some stupid thing you can get from Zonko's. Something that'll embarrass them in front of the whole school. Something those bastards will never forget for as long as they live."

Silence hung over the group. O'Bannon's scowl deepened.

"I tell you what I'd like," Ginny finally spoke up. "To get them out on the ice for a hockey game. Then we could run into them and knock them down and even beat them all game long, and not even get detention for it."

O'Bannon drew a breath and held it. He pictured himself in a Boston Bruins uniform grabbing Malfoy by the jersey and giving him a Hanson Brothers-style beat down from the movie _Slapshot._

Not only that, but imagine if they played those Slytherin a-holes in a hockey game, and beat them. Beat them bad. Took their pureblood fanaticism and shoved it down their damn throats. Defeated by a bunch of "Mudbloods and blood traitors." That would be a blow they'd feel forever.

"Don't be daft, Ginny." Ron shook his head. "There's no way Malfoy and his bunch would ever play any Muggle game. No way."

Ginny looked ready to argue, but didn't. Unfortunately, Ron was right.

But what if?

**XXXXX**

The next morning, O'Bannon did his usual morning calisthenics, went for his run, showered and changed. It didn't do much to diminish his anger toward the Slytherins. He kept replaying the scene in his head. Malfoy melting the ice. Waves and water spouts crashing down on them. Pansy cackling with delight. And Hadar. Dammit, he had actually felt sorry for the guy when he first got here. But after yesterday, he saw Hadar for what he truly was. A cowering, mushspined ass-monkey who'd always lick Malfoy's boots.

He stomped down the stairs, still thinking about Ginny's suggestion from last night. He liked the idea of the hockey game, but always came back to Ron's words. What reason would any pureblood elitist who despised anything having to do with Muggles have for playing a Muggle game?

O'Bannon was halfway to the portrait hole when he noticed Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown approaching. "The Giggle Twins," he called them. Almost every time he saw those two, they seemed to be whispering and giggling amongst themselves.

"Um, excuse me, Jimmy?" Lavender said.

"Yeah?"

"We, um, we just wanted to say we're sorry for what happened to you and the others yesterday. Malfoy's an utter arse, doing what he did."

"Thanks," he muttered, a bit surprised. He'd maybe said a handful of words to Lavender in his three months at Hogwarts.

_Maybe __it__'__s __a __Gryffindor __solidarity __thing._

"Malfoy seems to have it in for you," Parvati said. "I think the only other person here he hates more than you is Harry Potter. Well, maybe Hermione Granger, though with her it's simply because she's a Muggle-born."

"And what about Harry?"

"Oh, he and Malfoy have been at it since they first got to Hogwarts."

"Before then, even," Lavender said. "They were on the Hogwarts Express our First Year, and Malfoy started insulting Ron and they almost got into a fight."

"Yeah." Parvati nodded. "Ever since then, it's been one thing after another with them. The Dueling Club our Second Year, all the Quidditch matches where Harry's beaten him, that fight they got into outside Professor Snape's classroom a couple months ago."

"Damn. As rivalries go, they sound like they're up there with Larry Bird and Magic Johnson, only nastier."

Both girls gave him perplexed looks. O'Bannon mentally scolded himself. Like a couple of pureblood witches from Britain would know about two American basketball players, even ones as legendary as Bird and Magic.

His brow furrowed in thought. "So Harry and Malfoy have been goin' at it four years now, right?"

"Yes," Parvati answered.

"So they probably know each other pretty well, right?"

The two girls looked at one another. Lavender turned to him and shrugged. "Yes, I imagine so."

A smile grew on O'Bannon's face. "You girls just gave me a great idea. Thanks."

He hurried to the portrait hole.

"What idea's that?"

O'Bannon exited the common room before he could answer Lavender's question. He walked with a purpose down the steps to the first floor and toward the Great Hall. Once inside, he scanned the Gryffindor table and spotted Harry sitting with Ron and Hermione. He strode over to the trio and sat next to Harry.

"Mornin', guys."

"Morning, Jimmy," they greeted.

"Hey, you think you guys could do me a favor?"

"Um, what is it?" asked Harry.

"Well, you've had all kinds of run-ins with Draco Malfoy since you started here at Hogwarts, right?"

They all answered in the affirmative.

"Good." O'Bannon nodded.

"Good?" Ron gave him a quizzical look. "Why would you think that's good?"

He looked at all three of them before answering. "Because I have an idea, and if it's gonna work, I need you guys to tell me everything you know about Draco Malfoy."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	24. The Challenge

**CHAPTER 24: THE CHALLENGE**

* * *

><p>In sports, when preparing for a big game, one always scouted the other team, looking for strengths and weaknesses, preferred formations and alignments, the tendencies and habits of the players.<p>

O'Bannon used that same approach when it came to Draco Malfoy. Armed with the knowledge gained from his conversation earlier this morning with Harry, Ron and Hermione, he marched into the Great Hall during dinner. He looked to the Slytherin table. Malfoy and his a-hole pals all seemed in a good mood, despite getting a week's detention. They probably felt it was worth it for dumping him and his friends in that freezing pond. Hearing about the Slytherins' detentions certainly did nothing to satisfy most of the hockey club members, Fred and George especially. During Herbology class, the two had talked about creating a dung fountain and sneaking it into the Slytherin common room. That would probably be good for about two week's detention for the twins.

If he wanted to keep that from happening, his plan had better work.

Squaring his shoulders, O'Bannon strode toward the Slytherin table, eyes locked on Malfoy. Forcing a huge smile on his face, he came up behind the jagoff and brought his hands down on both of Malfoy's shoulders.

"Drake! How the heck are ya?"

Malfoy spat out his food and swung around to face him. "What the hell? Get your damn hands off me!"

Crabbe and Goyle about jumped out of their seats, looking ready to break him in half. O'Bannon continued to smile and nodded toward the front of the Great Hall. The two glanced over their shoulders at the head table, where several of the Hogwarts staff, including Headmaster Dumbledore, looked in their direction.

This was one of the reasons why O'Bannon wanted to do this in the Great Hall. The Slytherins wouldn't dare do anything with all the teachers watching.

"Whoa, chill out, Drake. You don't mind if I call you Drake, do ya?"

From the twisted expression on his face, Malfoy did mind, very much.

"Hey, all I want to do is talk."

"Why would I ever want to talk to you, Mud . . ." Malfoy clamped his mouth shut and turned to the head table. With the teachers around he'd have to watch his language, unless he wanted to spend more time in detention.

"Oh, probably because me and my friends are still, what is it you British say, hacked off over you guys dropping us into the pond yesterday."

"Good!"

"No, not really. You see, some of my friends want to do some nasty things to you and your pals. _Really_nasty things." O'Bannon nodded toward Fred and George at the Gryffindor table, hoping Malfoy got the hint.

He followed O'Bannon's stare and clenched his jaw.

"Now," O'Bannon continued. "Much as I wouldn't mind seeing your head turned into a troll booger or your common room covered in dung, I'd really rather not see the school get all messed up and my friends wind up in detention. So – Oh! Do you mind?"

He squeezed into the small space between Malfoy and Pansy, forcing the girl to scoot down. He ignored her shocked and angry stare.

"Now, as I was saying. I don't wanna see your guys and my guys go back-and-forth with pranks and hexes and all of us getting into trouble. So, here's what I suggest to settle this thing once and for all. Your friends versus my friends in a game of hockey. What do you say?"

Silence hung over the Slytherin table for a few seconds. Then Malfoy burst out laughing. So did everyone else around him.

"You must be barking mad. Do you honestly think I'd lower myself to playing a stupid Muggle game?"

O'Bannon shrugged. He expected that reaction. "Okay. If that's the excuse you wanna make."

"It's not an excuse. There are certain things a wizard of my standing doesn't do, and playing a game invented by Muggles is one of them."

"If that makes you sleep better at night, then fine." Now came time to put his newfound knowledge about Draco Malfoy to use. "I just look at it as your way of avoiding failure. That's seems to be what you're good at here. Failing at everything."

The laughter at the Slytherin table stopped. A few of them gaped at him.

Malfoy shifted in his seat. "I . . . I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" O'Bannon feigned surprise. "'Cause I talked to a bunch of people here and they told me different. I mean, when was the last time Slytherin beat Gryffindor in Quidditch?"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"Harry Potter always seems to be kicking your butt. Hey, is it true that a couple years ago he caught the Snitch with a broken arm while it was fluttering right near your head?"

Tremors of anger went through Malfoy's body. Just as O'Bannon thought. Any mention of Harry Potter besting him at anything was bound to piss him off.

_And __I__'__m __just __getting __warmed __up._

"Man, some Seeker you are. I guess if we had to rank the Seekers of the four Quidditch teams at Hogwarts, you'd be, what, the tenth best?"

"Oohs" rippled through the other three tables. Several students whispered and chuckled amongst themselves, including Ravenclaw's hot Seeker, Cho Chang.

Malfoy bared his teeth. Rage burned in the eyes of many Slytherins around them.

"How dare you?" Pansy screeched. "How dare you say those things about Draco?"

O'Bannon grimaced. Merlin's beard, that girl's voice was like a rusty nail on a chalkboard.

"And it's not just Quidditch, is it? I heard that most of the Muggle-borns here get better grades than you do. That can't sit well with you, I mean the way you're always goin' on about how superior 'proper wizards' like you are to us Muggle-borns. Maybe you oughta get a tutor. Maybe, oh, I don't know, someone like Hermione Granger. She's top of your class, isn't she?"

Several of the Slytherins gasped. Malfoy's face reddened. O'Bannon knew Hermione was also near the top of Ferret Boy's hate list.

Which set up his next avenue of attack.

"Not only does she beat you in the classroom, she also beats you literally."

Malfoy's face tightened. He gripped the edge of the table.

"I coulda sworn I heard someone say that last year you did something to hack off Hermione Granger and she punched your lights."

Shocked and amazed gasps and comments went up from the other tables. Several students turned toward Hermione, who wore a small smile. Others stared at Malfoy and sniggered.

Malfoy looked like his head was about to explode.

Now to go for the jugular.

"Nothing seems to go right for you at Hogwarts, does it? That can't make your old man happy."

This time, Malfoy actually slid back an inch. Satisfaction burst inside O'Bannon. Harry had told him Malfoy constantly tried to live up to his father's impossibly high expectations, and always came up short.

"How must that make him feel?" he continued. "I mean, your family's pretty prominent in Wizarding Britain, isn't it? Your old man's probably looking at you to take over the family business one day, but when he sees what you're doing at Hogwarts, average student, can't win a Quidditch game, getting' beat up by girls, what must he think? I bet he lies awake at night thinking the family fortune is gonna go in the toilet when you take it over. I wonder if he wishes he had another son. You know, one that's not an abject failure."

Many of the Slytherins around him wore looks of disbelief. It made him wonder if anyone had ever talked to Draco Malfoy like this before.

As for Malfoy, he was absolutely seething.

"And here," O'Bannon said. "I give you an opportunity to make up for all those failures in one fell swoop. Okay, it's a Muggle game, and supposedly, you're above playing a Muggle game, but think about it. What better way to show that purebloods like you and your pals here are superior to Muggles and Muggle-borns than by beating us at one of our own games? You'd actually have something to point to and say, 'See, Dad. I can succeed at something. I'm not a failure.'"

O'Bannon slapped his hands down on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "Just remember, I gave you a chance to prove you're worthy of the Malfoy name. My friends were ready to take you own. I guess that means that us Muggle-borns and 'blood traitors,'" he made quotation marks with his index and middle fingers, "have way more guts than you and your Slytherin pals'll ever have. Dwell on that, Drake."

He walked away from Malfoy, the Great Hall silent. He could feel the eyes of his fellow students, and the teachers, on him as he neared the edge of the Slytherin table. He tensed with each step, waiting for Malfoy to say something. Would he accept the challenge? He had to. He just called out the jagoff in front of the entire school. Harry, Ron and Hermione said Malfoy was obsessed with his image. He needed everyone at Hogwarts to think he was important. What would happen if . . .

Fists banged on the table behind him. He turned around to see Malfoy standing, fists clenched and eyes blazing. "I'm not a failure! You're not better than me! None of your kind is better than me! And I'll prove it! I'll take you on in your stupid game, and I'll beat you and put you Mud . . . Muggle-borns and blood traitors in your place!"

A huge smile spread across O'Bannon's face.

"Ah, how wonderful."

All heads turned to the head table, where Headmaster Dumbledore rose and walked toward the Slytherin table.

"Mister O'Bannon, Mister Malfoy. I credit the two of you for coming up with such an ingenious way of promoting a better understanding of Muggle culture."

O'Bannon's smile grew wider. Malfoy sneered.

"And I know how much you all miss Quidditch this year, so this seems like a smashing way for the students not taking part in the Tri-Wizard Tournament to occupy their free time. And I'm sure we can include our foreign guests in this sport." Dumbledore glanced at the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents.

"Absolutely." O'Bannon nodded.

"Splendid." Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Now, Mister O'Bannon, since you are our resident expert on hockey, what will be needed for this contest?"

"An ice surface two hundred feet long and eighty-five feet wide." He went with the standard size for an NHL rink. "Twenty players aside. Twelve forwards, six defensemen and two goalies. We'll also need uniforms, pads and sticks."

"I'm sure we can arrange for those things. Now, when shall this match take place?"

"It can't be soon," Malfoy said. "We have to learn what this stupid hockey thing is all about."

"A valid point, Mister Malfoy." Dumbledore stared at the ceiling in thought. "If I may suggest, the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament takes place June Twenty-Fourth. I would recommend we schedule your match two weeks before, on June Eighth. I'm sure that will give both of you plenty of time to form your teams and educate them on hockey."

"Sounds good to me, Headmaster," said O'Bannon.

An unsmiling Malfoy nodded.

"Good, good. And Mister O'Bannon. Since you know more about hockey than anyone at Hogwarts, I must ask you give Mister Malfoy some pointers on this sport, in order to make it a fair contest."

That request made his stomach twist. Judging from Malfoy's expression, the idea sickened him as well.

But . . .

"Okay. If we're gonna do this, Headmaster, I wanna make sure we do it fair and square."

"A noble sentiment. Ah, what a historic event this shall be. Wizards and witches playing one another in a Muggle sport. This shall be a first for Hogwarts."

Dumbledore looked at both O'Bannon and Malfoy. "Now, in order to make this official, I want you two to shake hands."

He grimaced at that. The only way he ever wanted to touch Malfoy was with a fist to the jagoff's face. But, as Dumbledore said, if they wanted to make this official . . .

He forced himself to extend his hand. Malfoy glared at it, glared at him, then slowly lifted his hand.

The two shook. Malfoy squeezed O'Bannon's hand as hard as he could. O'Bannon didn't wince.

"When this is all over, I'm going to show the entire Wizarding World that you and your worthless friends are failures, not me."

Now O'Bannon added pressure to his handshake. Malfoy winced.

"Bring it on."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	25. Ground Rules

**CHAPTER 25: GROUND RULES**

* * *

><p>"Will you two jackasses get up?"<p>

O'Bannon folded his arms across his chest and shook his head as Fred and George remained on their knees, bowing before him in the Gryffindor common room.

"But we must show proper respect . . ." said Fred.

". . . To the man who actually convinced Draco Malfoy to play a Muggle game," George finished.

After a couple more bows, the twins jumped to their feet and slapped him on the shoulders.

"Brilliant!" Fred declared. "Simply brilliant!"

Several of the Gryffindors around them nodded and voiced their approval.

"Thanks," O'Bannon said. "But we gotta give credit to Harry, Ron and Hermione. They're the ones who gave me the skinny on Malfoy so I knew which of his buttons to push."

"It was no problem," said Harry, who stood a few feet away. "Happy to help."

"Same here," Ron chimed in. "So long as you beat Malfoy and his wanker friends."

"Oh there's no doubt we'll beat 'em." A confident smile spread across Seamus' face.

"So how do we go about it?" Angelina asked, looking at O'Bannon.

"What'd you mean?"

"Well, I'm sure we'll have to have actual practices, not just pick-up games. And we'll have to get more people to round out our team. I imagine we'll have to have tryouts, like in Quidditch."

"Yeah, when'll those be?"

Several Gryffindors turned to Ron. He returned their gazes. "What? Maybe . . . Maybe I'd like to try out."

"You, Ronald?" Hermione shot him a stunned look.

"Yes, me." He responded with an edge to his voice. "I play Keeper when we're at home for the summer. Dean and Seamus told me they have a position like that in hockey."

"There'll likely be students from other Houses who'll want to play, too," Dean said. "I know plenty of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who'd like to take Slytherin down a peg or two."

"So when will you have tryouts?" Ron asked again.

O'Bannon looked at him, then glanced around. Everyone's eyes were on him.

"Um, I don't know yet. Heck, I just got Malfoy to agree to this."

"Don't worry, Jimmy," said Lee. "No rush. This match isn't until June."

"Perhaps, but the sooner we get started the better." Again, Angelina looked at him.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, you're right. Don't worry, I'll come up with a schedule soon, and we'll put together one hell of a team."

"I know you will, Jimmy." Fred grinned. "We have faith in you."

"Yeah!" Dean blurted. "We're with you."

"Just tell us what needs to be done, and we'll do it," Angelina assured him.

"Um, thanks, guys."

O'Bannon excused himself to his room to do his homework. But he found it hard to concentrate on his History of Magic essay on the Goblin Rebellion of 1749 – _How __many __friggin__' __Goblin __Rebellions __were __there? _Instead, he thought back to what his friends had said. How they had faith in him. That they were behind him. That they'd do whatever he told them.

That's when it dawned on him. They had just made him their leader.

That shouldn't have surprised him. Who knew more about hockey at Hogwarts than he did? Back at Salem, he'd been an alternate captain on the Blazenrowe Hall Hockey Team, and had quarterbacked one of the penalty kill units.

But those things were vastly different to being a captain, which in this case equated to a player/coach. He'd have to pick who made the team and who got cut. He'd have to organize practices. He'd have to motivate the players. He'd have to discipline them if they did something he didn't like. What if his friends resented him for that? What if he failed to prepare them properly and Slytherin won?

Was he ready to take on the responsibility that came with being a leader?

_You __better __be, __O__'__Bannon,__ '__cause __no __one __else __at __this __school __is __qualified __for __the __job._

**XXXXX**

The following Monday, O'Bannon was on his way to History of Magic class when Ginny ran up to him in the corridor.

"Jimmy. Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give you this."

She handed him a folded piece of parchment. He thanked her and opened it.

_Dear __Jimmy,_

_Please come to my office after the final bell today. I wish to discuss your hockey game in more detail._

_Yours truly,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. Cockroach Cluster_

His brow furrowed at the last two words. He turned to Ginny. "Cockroach Cluster? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I imagine that's the password to get into Professor Dumbledore's office."

As was typical for a Monday, classes seemed to drag on. Especially History of Magic, with Professor Binns droning on in that monotone voice of his. O'Bannon passed the time jotting down ideas for what to cover in the first few practices.

When the last class of the day ended, he headed up to Dumbledore's office. Unfortunately, getting there proved an adventure, as his route took him to one of those Hogwarts staircases that had a mind of its own. This one led straight into a brick wall instead of the fourth floor every other Monday. It took a few minutes to find another staircase that took him to the floor where Dumbledore's office was located. He halted in front of a melancholy-looking gargoyle on a stone perch.

"Um, Cockroach Cluster?"

The gargoyle jumped to the side. A gap suddenly opened in the wall.

O'Bannon turned to the gargoyle, who just stared at him.

Shrugging, he walked through the gap and up a spiral staircase until he came to a polished oak door with a brass knocker. He grabbed it and banged the door twice.

"Enter," Dumbledore called from the other side.

O'Bannon went inside. He stood still for a moment, his eyes sweeping the circular office, taking in the décor. Moving portraits of the school's former headmasters and headmistresses adorned the walls. A brightly-colored bird he recognized as a phoenix sat on a perch next to a claw-footed desk. Behind it was a shelf where the tattered Sorting Hat sat. A glass case next to it contained a ruby-encrusted sword.

"Ah, Mister O'Bannon," Dumbledore said. "You're here. Good. Now we can begin."

He looked to his left. His eyes widened in surprise. Professor Dumbledore wasn't the only one in the office.

The heads of all the Hogwarts Houses – Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape – flanked him, as did Professor Burbage and the heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff.

And sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in front of them was none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Have a seat." Dumbledore indicated to the chair next to Malfoy, who scowled at him.

O'Bannon pretended to ignore him and sat down.

"Now, I hope you don't mind the fact we're a bit crowded in here," Dumbledore said. "But seeing as all four of our Houses and our two guest schools have students involved in this hockey sport, I felt it only fitting that they all attend this meeting."

"A waste of time." Karkaroff looked like he wanted to spit. "All this does is take away attention from what is really important. The Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I think not, my dear Igor," Dumbledore said. "There are only four students actually involved in the tournament."

"There should only be three," Karkaroff grumbled.

"Nonetheless, the other students here at Hogwarts need something to occupy their free time since there is no Quidditch season. If playing this sport also gives them a greater appreciation of Muggle culture, so much the better."

"I wholeheartedly agree, Professor." Burbage made no attempt to contain her excitement. "Mister O'Bannon here has already shown a handful of witches and wizards how enjoyable a sport without magical elements can be. Now here is the opportunity to get even more students involved."

"I do not object to zees game," said Madam Maxime. "One of my students is already involved in it, and 'as told me she enjoys it very much."

That brought a smile to O'Bannon's face as he thought of Mireet.

"And may I point out, Igor," Dumbledore said. "One of the purposes of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is to promote cooperation and friendship between our three schools. Surely this hockey game will help in doing that."

Karkaroff scowled at Dumbledore, then at O'Bannon. He didn't flinch from the older man's glare.

"There is another concern, Headmaster," Snape said. "O'Bannon and his friends have been playing this sport of theirs for almost two months. They already have a distinct advantage over Mister Malfoy and whoever he recruits to his team. I question whether such a competition between the two would be fair."

O'Bannon clenched his teeth, fighting back the urge to laugh. Like Snape gave a damn about being fair, considering the way he favored Slytherin and treated students from the other Houses like crap.

An arrogant smile formed on Malfoy's lips. Dread and anger boiled inside O'Bannon. Was Ferret Boy about to back out of this game, with Snape's help?

"The game isn't until June Eighth, Severus. I think that should give Mister Malfoy and his friends more than enough time to adequately prepare."

Malfoy's smile disappeared, replaced by a sneer aimed at Headmaster Dumbledore. Snape's lip also curled as he glowered at O'Bannon, who did his best not to look satisfied.

"Now, let us talk about forming your teams," Dumbledore said.

"Another matter I take issue with, Headmaster," Snape spoke up. "Mister O'Bannon's little club is comprised of students from three of our four Houses and both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Do we allow him to have this large pool of students to choose from while Mister Malfoy is limited to only those in Slytherin House?"

Dumbledore stood silent for a few moments. "A fair point. Very well. Mister O'Bannon and Mister Malfoy can choose any students they want for their teams, regardless of House or school."

Malfoy snorted. "Like I really want to be on a team with a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff."

Both McGonagall's and Sprout's eyes narrowed at him.

O'Bannon shrugged. "Hey, I'm cool with this. You don't wanna take advantage of it, it ain't my problem."

Then again, it probably would come down to Slytherin versus everyone else. He couldn't imagine anyone from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw wanting to play for Malfoy. The same with the Beauxbatons contingent. The Durmstrangs? Maybe some of them would be willing.

"When do you plan on holding tryouts for your teams?" Burbage asked.

"I guess as soon as possible. My club usually meets on Thursday, so maybe I'll start then."

"If I may." Flitwick raised his tiny hand. "The Holidays are coming up, as well as the Yule Ball. The students, I'm sure, will have their minds on those things more than sport. Plus many of our younger students will be leaving for Christmas break. Some of them might want to give this hockey thing a go. Perhaps it would be wise to wait until the start of next term before you two start forming your teams."

O'Bannon groaned to himself. He wanted get started on this right away. But mulling over Flitwick's words, he had to admit the little Charms teacher had a point. He'd rather have people on the ice focused on hockey instead of what they'd get for Christmas and who they would ask to the Yule Ball.

_And __how __to __ask __out __Mireet __without __hurting __Katie__'__s __feeling._

_See, you're thinking about the Yule Ball instead of hockey._

"Sounds like a good idea to me."

Malfoy grunted and nodded.

"And in order to keep Mister O'Bannon and his friends from gaining an unfair advantage," Snape said. "He and his friends should be barred from their hockey club gatherings until the start of next term."

"What?" He shot a scathing look at Snape before turning to Dumbledore. "But those are, like, pick-up games. For fun. They're not like a real practice."

Dumbledore slowly bobbed his head from side-to-side in thought. "I'm afraid I must agree with Professor Snape. As you said yourself, you want this game to remain fair."

O'Bannon frowned. Damn his sense of fair play coming back to haunt him. For a brief moment, he wondered if the Sorting Hat had messed up not putting him in Hufflepuff.

Sensing defeat, he settled back in his chair and nodded. "Okay."

"We'll also need to set up a proper _reek_for this game," Burbage said.

"Um, that's 'rink,' Professor."

"Oh yes. Rink. Thank you. Yes, we must set up a proper rink, and arrange for proper hockey apparel."

Dumbledore looked to O'Bannon. "I'm sure you can provide us with the specifications, uniforms and equipment necessary for this."

"Yeah. I can probably get my parents to send over some books on hockey, then I can give 'em to Malfoy so he can learn about it."

"That is another concern I have."

O'Bannon closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to keep from yelling at Snape. He seemed determined to be an asshole throughout this whole meeting.

"Mister O'Bannon said he would teach Mister Malfoy and his team the basics of hockey out of 'fairness.'" The word dripped off Snape's tongue like venom. "What guarantee do we have that he will not hold back critical information, or deliberately sabotage Mister Malfoy's efforts?"

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me. I said I'd teach 'em hockey the best I can, and that's what I'll do."

Snape narrowed his beady eyes at him. "Given the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin, you'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word."

"I'm sure there's something we can do to ease your mind about Mister O'Bannon's sincerity," Sprout said.

"No, but there's something _I_ can do to. There will be no doubt that he will answer any questions Mister Malfoy and his team members ask about hockey truthfully with a drop of veritaserum."

"What!" Sprout and Burbage exclaimed.

"Professor Snape, you cannot be serious," said a stunned McGonagall.

O'Bannon nearly crushed his armrests as he glared at Snape. He didn't like anyone questioning his honor, especially this greasy-haired bastard.

_You __put __that __drop __in __my __mouth __and __I__'__ll __spit __it __back __in __your __face._

"I think that is a bit extreme, Severus," Dumbledore said. "We're talking about a game between students, not an interrogation. The veritaserum is unnecessary. I will take Mister O'Bannon's word that he will honestly teach the Slytherins about hockey."

Now O'Bannon wore a triumphant smile, while sour looks formed on the faces of Snape and Malfoy.

"But who shall oversee zis game?" Madam Maxime asked.

"Our flying instructor, Madam Hooch, also serves as a Quidditch referee," Dumbledore pointed out. "We can bring her up to speed on this sport and have her officiate it."

"I have another suggestion, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded to Professor Burbage, who continued, "Mister O'Bannon informed me that hockey is very popular on The Continent, most especially in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe. Surely there are some Muggle-borns, or their relatives, who are more familiar with the sport than any of us. They could serve as our referees."

"An excellent idea!" Dumbledore's face lit up. "Perhaps you can get in touch with the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Muggle Liaison Office to assist you in that search."

Burbage smiled wide. O'Bannon nodded. He'd have more confidence in guys with practical experience in the game than someone who only used a book to learn about it.

"There is something else about this hockey game that troubles me."

A flicker of surprise went through O'Bannon as the statement came from Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Burbage informs me that fighting is an accepted part of this sport."

"What?" Madam Maxime's eyes widened. "You will allow ze students to curse one another during zis game?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, from what Professor Burbage tells me, the players can use their fists to attack one another."

Madam Maxime gasped. "How barbaric."

A concerned look fell over Sprout's face. "We can't allow our students to attack one another."

"But fighting's part of the game," O'Bannon protested.

"Not in this game," McGonagall stated. "There is no room for violence in sport."

"Yeah, like a Quidditch match is some kind of tea party."

McGonagall shot him a stern look. O'Bannon feared he may he crossed the line with that flippant comment. He spoke before McGonagall could dock him any House points. "C'mon, look at all the injuries you get from an average Quidditch match. Broke bones, concussions. Merlin's beard, the Beaters can actually smack a big, hard ball at other players and try to knock 'em off their brooms. A fist is gonna do a lot less damage than a Bludger."

McGonagall, Sprout and Madam Maxime didn't look convinced.

"Okay, here's how fighting works in hockey. Play gets a little chippy, or you need to fire up your team, you drop the gloves with someone and go. You wrestle, you throw a few punches, and when you go down to the ice the refs break it up. Then you sit in the penalty box for five minutes, usually with nothing worse than a split lip. And most times, everyone _calms __down_after a fight."

"And what if someone decides to use one of those sticks to hit another student?" asked McGonagall.

"Then they're gone. You _do __not_ use a stick to hit another player. Anyone who does that is looking at a major suspension, and if you're a pro, you're gonna get hit with a mega-fine."

"If we are to give our world a proper show of this hockey, I think we must include all its aspects," Dumbledore said. "The fighting will be allowed, so long as it does not get out of hand."

"If we get some good refs for this game, they'll make sure it doesn't." O'Bannon managed not to do a fist pump. Given Professor McGonagall's disagreeable look, he didn't think celebrating the fact they could fight was a good idea.

"Well." Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "I think we've covered just about everything we can at this moment. If anyone has any other ideas, or concerns, regarding this game, please don't hesitate to bring them to me. Now, let us proceed to the Great Hall for dinner. I have it on good authority there will be a scrumptious Clementine and Lemon Posset for pudding."

Everyone headed for the door, with O'Bannon and Malfoy trailing the professors and heads. He glanced over his shoulder to find Malfoy glaring at him as they descended the steps. When they reached the bottom, he turned around to find Ferret Boy still staring daggers at him.

"You just gonna glare at me or do you have something to say?"

Malfoy sneered as he stepped closer to O'Bannon. The professors and heads were already halfway down the hall. He rose on the balls of his feet, making himself even taller, probably trying to intimidate him. Not that it worked.

"You may have Dumbledore fooled, but not me. I don't trust you one bit when it comes to teaching us hockey. I'll have my eye on you, and if you do anything to sabotage us, you'll regret it."

O'Bannon stifled a laugh. "Wow, I'm impressed."

"About what?"

"That you can actually talk tough without your two goons Crabbe and Goyle around. Maybe you do have a set."

Malfoy's face turned scarlet. He shook with fury.

"Look, I give you my word as a wizard and a Gryffindor -"

"Like your word as a Gryffindor means anything to me."

"As I was saying, I give you my word that I will teach you and all your slithery friends about hockey the best I can. I actually do want your team to have a fighting chance to try and beat my team, that way you can show Daddy that you're not a pathetic failure."

Malfoy exploded. "Shut up! I'm not a failure! I'll show you! I don't care what it takes, I'm going to beat you and the rest of those Mudbloods and blood traitors you call friends! And when I do, I'm going to laugh in your damn face, before I spit in it!"

Malfoy stomped off. O'Bannon just rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning. He knew that Malfoy would use that anger to motivate him and the rest of his team. On June 8th, the Slytherins would unleash that anger on the ice and come at his team with everything they had.

That would make their victory even sweeter.

_**TO **__**BE **__**CONTINUED**_


	26. Dilemmas

**CHAPTER 26: DILEMMAS**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon's roommates still slept as he got out of bed and changed into blue sweatpants and a New England Patriots sweatshirt. Minutes later he stepped outside into the frigid air and took a deep breath. Most of the students at Hogwarts would probably have retreated back into the castle and out of the bitter cold. Not him. Growing up in New England you could do one of two things. Hate the cold, or embrace it.<p>

He chose to embrace it. Besides, he learned long ago the cold air energized him, got him ready to face the day.

O'Bannon set out across the grounds, his breaths coming out in small, steamy puffs. With an actual hockey game on the horizon, he'd have to start adding more time to his runs to build up his endurance. He'd suggest the same for the other hockey club members, and anyone else interested in joining. They may not be able to practice until after the New Year, but none of the teachers or heads said anything about not working out. And endurance was just as important as skill in hockey. He'd be damned if his team lost to Malfoy because they were sucking wind when the third period rolled around.

He ran along the shore of the lake, slowing his pace as he eyed the scene ahead.

Over a dozen students stood by a small thicket of trees. Even with their heavy coats, he could tell they were all girls. The majority grinned or chatted excitedly.

_What the heck are they doing?_

Another figure caught his attention. This one he recognized instantly. Now he knew what drew out these girls into the cold morning air.

Viktor Krum went through a calisthenics routine while the little knot of girls gawked or smiled. One of them even whistled.

O'Bannon grunted and kept jogging. He briefly nodded to Krum when he passed him. The Durmstrang champion gave him a slight nod in return. O'Bannon looked over to the girls, hoping to catch a couple eyes. He may not be an international Quidditch star or a Tri-Wizard Champion, but he considered himself fairly handsome. Plus he was a hockey player. You couldn't get any manlier than that.

None of that seemed to matter to the girls. They all stared past him and at Krum.

_Lucky bastard._ This guy could snap his fingers and take any girl at Hogwarts to the upcoming Yule Ball.

O'Bannon frowned. That brought him back to his own dilemma with the Yule Ball. How to go with Mireet without hurting Katie's feelings.

_That's assuming Mireet will go with you._

He wondered if that was one reason he found excuses to put off asking her. Hearing her say no would suck. No, it wouldn't just suck. It would suck more than anything had ever sucked in the entire history of suckiness.

That's when he wondered if he shouldn't talk to Katie about her crush on him. If Mireet said no, he could always ask Katie to the Yule Ball.

_And how will she feel about being your back-up plan?_

_Damn, damn, damn._

O'Bannon's pace quickened, fueled by frustration. This problem would not solve itself, and no one would solve it for him. He had to do it. And he'd do it today! He'd go up to Katie and let her down as gently as possible.

_I hope she doesn't cry._

Then after he finished with Katie, he'd walk up to Mireet and –

"Good morning, Jimmy."

The silky French accent froze him in his tracks. He looked up. Both his mouth and eyes widened at the sight before him.

Mireet stood a few feet away in a silver one-piece bathing suit that looked like it had been painted on her. A swimming cap covered her head. She smiled as she grabbed a towel hanging from the branch of the tree next to her.

"Uhh . . . uhh . . ."

_Say "good morning," numbnuts._

"Uh, mu-morning." His eyes swept over the curves of Mireet's body, then down her firm legs. Merlin's friggin' snowy white beard she had incredible legs!

"Uh, what . . . what are you doing?" He groaned at the stupid question. ITAL What, the bathing suit and swim cap aren't dead giveaways, moron?

"I swim every morning." She toweled herself down, still smiling at him. "I find it very invigorating."

"Isn't it a little cold for that?"

"I simply cast charms over the part of the lake I swim in to warm the water and make it tolerable."

"Uh-huh." O'Bannon's eyes flickered between Mireet's face and legs.

"So I assume you do not mind this cold." She ran the towel down her left leg.

"Uh, no. I'm cool with it. Typical New England weather for me. I mean, minus the snow."

"I see." Mireet reached for her robes hanging form the branch and wrapped them around herself.

O'Bannon watched in awestruck silence. How could anyone be this beautiful? More than beautiful. She was intoxicating.

_And you're thinking of asking her to the Yule Ball?_

They stared at each other for several seconds without a word.

"Well." Mireet bit her lower lip for a moment. "I will see you at breakfast."

"Yeah. See you there."

Mireet gave him a smile and started to turn. That's when it dawned on O'Bannon. They were alone. He had a perfect opportunity to ask her out.

_What about Katie?_

_What if this is your only chance to ask Mireet to the ball?_

"Uh, Mireet?"

"_Oui?__"_ She turned to face him.

He sucked down a long breath of cold air. "I was . . . would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Surprise flared across Mireet's face. She stared at him, unblinking.

O'Bannon tensed. He imagined all sorts of responses.

_I'm sorry, Jimmy. Someone already asked me._

_I'm sorry, Jimmy. I just consider you a friend._

_I'm sorry, Jimmy. You're just not in my league._

"I would love to go to the ball with you."

O'Bannon's heart went into overdrive. He couldn't breathe. _Oh my God. She said yes._

_SHE SAID YES!_

"That's . . . that's, um, great." A huge smile broke out on his face.

"Thank you for asking me." Mireet strode over to him. Elation swelled inside him as she hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks.

"Um, uh, sure. No prob. I . . . I think it's gonna be great."

"I believe so as well. Thank you again for asking me. " A pause. "Please excuse me. I should go freshen up before breakfast."

"So, um, can I walk you back to your carriage?" O'Bannon asked.

"_Oui,__" _Mireet responded excitedly.

They continued talking as they headed for the Beauxbatons carriage. O'Bannon mentioned how many of the younger students seemed terrified at the prospect of asking girls to the ball. Mireet said many of her classmates were looking forward to the Yule Ball, the first thing at Hogwarts – minus the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament – that most of the Beauxbatons students showed excitement over.

"Thank you for walking me back to the carriage," Mireet said as she put one foot on the steps. "And thank you again for asking me to the ball."

"You bet. And thank you for saying yes. I'm gonna be counting down the days until this thing. Maybe even the hours."

Mireet chuckled, then flashed him a warm smile that made his legs tremble. "_Au __revoir, _Jimmy."

"Bye."

Mireet went inside the carriage. O'Bannon just stood there, grinning wide for nearly a minute before he turned and sauntered back to the castle. He still couldn't believe Mireet had said yes to him. Or _Oui_ in her case. Images formed in his mind of them dancing at the Yule Ball, then a nice, long kiss goodnight. Maybe more than one kiss. Merlin's beard, he was so happy he could probably use this memory to cast the most awesome patronus the world had ever seen.

_What about Katie?_

He felt his happiness drain away. She was going to find out soon. How would she react? Maybe he'd better tell her before she heard it through the Hogwarts grapevine.

When he returned to Gryffindor Tower, he scanned the common room for Katie. She wasn't there. He showered and changed quickly, then joined Fred, George and Lee as they headed down to the Great Hall. While the three Brits talked about some new joke product, O'Bannon stayed quiet, thinking about what to say to Katie.

He saw her sitting with Angelina and Alicia, as usual. He obviously couldn't talk with Katie about this at the crowded Gryffindor table. Maybe on their way to class he could pull her aside and –

"Jimmy!" Ginny blurted out as he approached. "I just ran into Mireet on my way in. She told me you asked her to the Yule Ball."

"What!" Both Alicia and Angelina said at the same time.

"Bloody hell." Fred turned to him. "All that time we spent walking from Gryffindor Tower to here and you never once thought to tell us you asked one of those gorgeous French witches to the ball."

"Some friend you are," George added.

"She did say yes, right?" Lee asked with a wry grin.

"Well yeah she said yes," O'Bannon replied.

"That's so wonderful." Ginny smiled. "Mireet's so nice. I like her more than that snooty Fleur Delacour. I bet you'll have a great time together."

"Thanks. Um, that's what I'm hoping for." O'Bannon's jaw tensed as he glanced over at Katie. She frowned and looked down at her oatmeal.

_Damn._

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon found it hard to concentrate in his classes for the rest of the day. He wanted to feel happy that Mireet agreed to go to the Yule Ball with him, yet he also felt bad for Katie. At lunch, she barely said a word, and didn't even glance in his direction. It probably didn't make things easier when Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan came by to congratulate him on asking out Mireet. Then Ron had to add, "How did you get her to go with you?"

"He used an Imperius Curse, of course," George quipped.

"How do you think he did it, you prat?" Fred said. "Jimmy Boy here asked her and she said yes."

"Maybe you should try that, too," George told him. "You never know. There might be one girl in this entire school mental enough to say 'yes' to you."

The twins laughed.

Ron glared at them.

Hermione's nose, for whatever reason, crinkled.

Katie ignored the whole thing.

Before leaving the Great Hall, O'Bannon stuffed some rolls and apples into his robes. He'd concentrated on hockey so much over the past couple of days he put off doing his Potions essay. That and the fact he hated the damn class and its jagoff teacher. Now he'd have to work through dinner in order to make sure he got it done so he could go to bed at a reasonable time.

After his last class, he retreated to the library and picked out six books for his research. Snape wanted the class to write about the effects of drinking improperly prepared Polyjuice Potion. A fourteen inch-long essay! Plus Snape spent the majority of their last class lecturing them about the ingredients of the potion and the difficulty in brewing it.

_What, does he think one of us is brewing the stuff? _Snape couldn't think it was him. He had enough problems with "simple" potions, never mind something as hard as Polyjuice Potion.

Then again, like Snape really needed an excuse to be an asshole.

He spread the books across the table, read for a while, then started writing. Every once in a while, he checked around before sneaking a roll or apple out of his robes and taking a bite. His friends had warned him that Madam Pince, the librarian, would freak if she found one crumb of food in here.

During one of his checks he spotted Hermione and Viktor Krum of all people sitting at a table, involved in some sort of deep conversation.

_What would a famous Seeker want with a brainiac like Hermione Granger?_

_Maybe they're dating._

O'Bannon quietly laughed to himself. Granted, Hermione looked a lot better since her buck teeth had been shrunk after getting hit by a stray curse from dipstick Draco Malfoy. Still, he couldn't see Hermione as Viktor's type.

_Then again, what do I know?_

He ignored Krum and Hermione and continued to work on his Potions essay. It hadn't taken as long as O'Bannon feared. He wrote his final line just after eight o'clock. O'Bannon let out a sigh of relief and flexed his quill hand. He then glanced over the essay.

_I think this is pretty good. _Not that it would matter. Snape would tear it to shreds, like he did all his work. Like he did the work of all Gryffindors. It made O'Bannon wonder why he put so much effort it.

_Because if you didn't, he'd get on your case even worse._

After putting away his books, O'Bannon left the library and made his way through the corridors. At one point he had to duck behind a suit of armor when Peeves floated by. No way would that stupid poltergeist get him again.

When he returned to Gryffindor Tower, he noticed several students spread throughout the common room. Some studied, some played games like Exploding Snap or Wizards Chess, some just chatted. He walked past a large comfy chair, then slowed when he glimpsed long brown hair and an athletic figure. He stopped and looked down.

Katie Bell stared up at him.

Silence hung between them. Katie's thumb and index finger rubbed the Wizarding romance novel she'd been reading.

"Uh, hey, Katie," O'Bannon finally spoke.

"Jimmy."

"Um, how're ya doin'?"

"Fine."

"Cool."

They didn't speak for several seconds. O'Bannon bit his lip, his eyes flickering from left to right, thinking of what to say.

"So." Katie shifted in the chair. "Um, you're taking Mireet to the Yule Ball."

He tensed. "Uh, yeah."

"That's nice." Katie again shifted in her chair.

O'Bannon let out a sigh. It was time to just deal with this head on.

"Um, Katie. Um, I heard . . . I mean, I know that . . . Well, that you, um, might have a, um . . . you know. When comes to me . . . You and me . . ."

Katie's face went completely red. O'Bannon couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. Maybe a little of both.

"Oh my God," she stammered. "Oh my God. Did Angelina and Alicia tell you that I . . ." She seized up before she could complete the sentence.

O'Bannon didn't reply. He debated with himself whether to lie or rat out Angelina and Alicia.

His silence, apparently, gave Katie the answer she wanted. "They did. They bloody told you that I . . . like you." She mumbled the last two words.

"Uh . . ." O'Bannon rubbed the back of his head.

Katie shook her head and turned away. "Bloody hell.".

"Katie. Katie, look. I'm flattered. Really, I am. But with Mireet, I mean -"

"You don't have to explain yourself. Just a stupid schoolgirl crush on my part really. It's just, the more I was around you, saw how nice and strong-willed and, er, and fit you were, I just started . . . liking you."

Katie pushed herself deeper into the chair. "But you're going to the ball with Mireet. I understand. How can someone like me compare to someone like her?"

"This isn't about comparing you two," O'Bannon said. "And don't put yourself down like that, Katie. You're an awesome girl."

She sat up a bit straighter.

He continued. "You're cool, you're fun to be around, you're athletic, and you're, well, like you Brits say, you're fit."

Katie blushed again.

"Maybe another time, who knows? I'm sorry, Katie. I really don't want to hurt your feelings or anything. I consider you a really good friend." O'Bannon winced. Damn, he actually used the friend line, after he promised himself he wouldn't. "But, I can't help feeling the way I do about Mireet. I really like her and . . . I just hope you understand."

Katie's shoulders sagged. She drew a breath. A smile formed on her face. A rather forced smile, O'Bannon thought.

"Yeah. I understand."

She hadn't said it with as much conviction as O'Bannon would have liked. Still, her words spawned some relief in him.

Katie pushed herself off the chair and onto her feet. This time she squared her shoulders and stiffened her face. Typical British reserve.

"Thanks for being honest with me, Jimmy. I hope . . ." Her jaw tightened for a moment. "I hope you and Mireet have a good time at the Yule Ball."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. And whoever asks you to the ball is gonna be one lucky guy."

Katie smiled again, a more genuine one this time.

"Well," she said. "If it's worth anything, you made a good choice with Mireet. She really is nice, and she did help me out of the pond after Malfoy melted the ice. Hard to be mad at someone like that, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

O'Bannon smiled at her and gave her a friendly hug.

"Good night, Jimmy."

"Night."

Katie headed upstairs to the girls dormitory. O'Bannon then went up to his room, noticing the extra spring in his step. His talk with Katie had gone better than expected. They parted on good terms, she hadn't resented Mireet, and best of all, she didn't cry.

He plopped down on his bed, letting out a sigh of relief and smiling. Now that he had resolved everything with Katie, he could really look forward to going to the Yule Ball with Mireet.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	27. Rebellious Streak

**CHAPTER 27: REBELLIOUS STREAK**

* * *

><p>It was a weird feeling, being at school during the holidays. Had he been back at Salem, O'Bannon would be home now for a nice three-week break. He could spend time with his family, watch football on Sundays, and try to take in a Bruins game or two at The Garden.<p>

That wouldn't happen this year. Though given the fact he'd be going to the Yule Ball with Mireet Miradeaux, he found it hard to complain about being stuck in the castle with no classes taking place.

He used some of that extra time to catch up on sleep. So did most of the students still at Hogwarts, to the point they didn't even bother going down to breakfast. O'Bannon also spent more time working out. He was glad to see most of the other hockey club members staying in shape by running or flying their brooms.

Or in Mireet's case, by doing her morning swim.

He had run into her a couple times as she got out of the lake. Each time he walked her back to the Beauxbatons carriage. They chatted about life in France, life in New England, their favorite and least favorite classes, what their families would be doing for Christmas.

Best of all, she kissed him on both cheeks before she went back inside the carriage. He strolled back to the castle with a loopy grin on his face.

_I __love __French __women._

O'Bannon wished Christmas Day would get here already. He could care less about presents. He had the best present ever. Going to the Yule Ball with Mireet.

At least he got to go with the girl he wanted. According to the Hogwarts grapevine, Harry had asked out that hot Asian girl from Ravenclaw, Cho Chang – whom he apparently had a crush on. Unfortunately, Cho had already accepted an invite to the ball from none other than Pretty Boy Diggory.

_I __wonder __if __he __knew __Harry __had __a __thing __for __Cho __and __did __this __to __stick __it __to __him. _If that was the case, then Diggory was an even bigger douche than O'Bannon thought.

Oh well, at least Harry would be going with Parvati Patil. Definitely not a bad choice for a date.

Three days before Christmas, O'Bannon was stretched out on his bed, reading a Clive Cussler novel he'd borrowed from his dad's collection before he left for Britain, when the door banged open. He peered over the book to find Fred, George and Lee standing in the doorway.

"Don't you three know how to knock?" Simon Hurst gave them an annoyed look.

"Of course we do," Fred answered, before ignoring Hurst and looking to O'Bannon. "Let's go, Jimmy Boy."

"What? Go where?"

"You'll see." Fred grinned.

"Are you up to something?"

"Merlin's beard." George pretended to sound shocked. "We just walked in here to have a chat with our friend Jimmy and you automatically accuse us of being up to no good? I'm hurt, Simon. Deeply hurt."

George, though, didn't look the slightest bit hurt.

"You're always up to no good." Hurst narrowed his eyes at the twins and Lee.

Fred huffed. "Well we didn't walk all this way from our room just to be insulted. Come on, Jimmy. Let's go somewhere where we'll be treated with more respect and, er, talk about hockey."

O'Bannon shrugged, got up and chucked his book on the bed.

"You'd best not do anything that will cost Gryffindor points."

Fred gasped and shook his head. "My goodness, George. What could we have done to deserve such mistrust among our fellow students?"

"It's a mystery to me, Fred."

O'Bannon noticed Hurst give them all a warning glare as they headed into the hallway.

"So what do you guys want?" he asked as they neared the staircase. "Something tells me you don't want to talk about hockey."

Lee draped an arm around his shoulders. "It's initiation time, Jimmy."

He turned to him with a quizzical expression. "Initiation? What are you talking about?"

"Your initiation into the friends of Fred and George Club," Fred said.

"Very exclusive club, it is," George added. "We don't let just anyone in."

"Yes. Those admitted into this club must be fine, upstanding citizens of the Wizarding World with unquestionable moral character."

"That way it's more fun corrupting them." George grinned.

O'Bannon raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry, Jimmy," Lee told him. "I went through this my First Year. The initiation is quite fun, and not at all painless."

"At least for some involved." A sly grin spread across Fred's face.

O'Bannon slowed his pace. "So can I ask what I have to do for this initiation or is it gonna be a surprise?"

"Of course it's going to be a surprise," said Fred.

"Where's the fun in telling you beforehand?" George added.

"Yes, of course, you're right. How stupid of me to ask."

Fred, George and Lee chuckled as they walked across the common room and toward the portrait hole. Much as it pained him to, O'Bannon had to agree with Simon Hurst. The twins and Lee had to be up to something.

He checked around the common room, wondering if anyone, especially a prefect, might be watching them. Thankfully, everyone was engaged in something else. Dean was waving his wand over a Muggle CD, trying unsuccessfully to get it to play, while Seamus and Lavender Brown watched. Other students, including Ginny and Katie, gathered around a Wizarding Wireless playing a song by some Wizarding rock band. Hermione was lecturing Ron about who the hell knew what this time.

_Jeez, __imagine __being __married __to __that._

No one paid them any mind. Moments later they crawled through the portrait hole and headed down the stairs. They ducked behind tapestries and statues and peeked around corners. O'Bannon's nervousness grew. What if a teacher or prefect caught them in the corridors after hours? How many points would Gryffindor lose? Would they get detention? Would Professor McGonagall mention this in her next letter to Headmistress Esmeralda?

Why the hell was he doing this in the first place? Hadn't he gotten in enough trouble this year? He'd been doing his best to keep his nose clean since that first, difficult month at Hogwarts.

_Maybe __I __should __just __go __back __to __Gryffindor __Tower._

But he didn't. Along with his growing nervousness came a flash of adventurism. This reminded him a bit of the Clive Cussler novel he'd been reading, with the heroes, Dirk Pitt and Al Giordino, sneaking around some bad guy's lair.

He also had to admit, he was curious what Fred, George and Lee had in store for him.

So O'Bannon followed them down to the dungeons and up to the wall that led to the Slytherin common room.

"Got the sneakoscope, Lee?" Fred asked.

"Right here." Lee reached into his robes and pulled out an object that resembled a brightly colored top. He put it down at the base of the steps leading to the wall. O'Bannon knew if any Slytherins approached the sneakoscope would alert them by lighting up and whistling.

"Okay, I take it we're gonna do something to those snakey a-holes."

"Right you are, Jimmy Boy." Fred walked up to the wall and said, "_Dolosus__Mentis.__"_

Part of the wall slid open. Wide-eyed, O'Bannon looked through it and saw a long, low underground room with rough stone walls, greenish lamps hanging from the ceiling and an elaborately carved fireplace. Several students sat in high-backed chairs and couches, reading, playing games or just conversing.

O'Bannon turned to Fred and spoke in a whisper. "How the hell did you get the password for the Slytherin Dungeon?"

"Camouflage Charm. George and I blended into the wall, and stood there and waited for some Slytherins to come by and say the password."

"So what do we do now?"

Fred grinned and turned to his brother. "George, if you please."

George removed a sack from his robes and opened it. The inside was filled with plastic-looking red, green and yellow toy bugs. The most distinctive feature had to be their human-looking lips. Their very, very large human-looking lips.

"Good God. And I thought Mick Jagger's lips were enormous."

"Who?" Fred, George and Lee all whispered and shot him quizzical looks.

"Nevermind. What exactly are these things?"

"Huggie Buggies," answered Fred and George.

"Huggie Buggies? You kiddin' me? That sounds like something you give a five year old."

"Trust me," said Fred. "They're not as innocent as they sound."

George reached into the bag and pulled one out. "You pick one up, tell it the name of the person you want it to go to, then let it loose."

"And?"

"You'll see." Fred and George grinned, while Lee chuckled into his sleeve.

O'Bannon rolled his eyes, then pulled out one of the Huggie Buggies. He peeked into the Slytherin common room to see who was around. Malfoy was there. He was about to say the prick's name to the Huggie Buggie when he spotted Hadar Gilbourne sitting near the fireplace reading a book. He thought back to that day when Malfoy melted their hockey pond, how Gilbourne caved in to peer pressure and sent a wave of ice cold water crashing down on him and his friends. A small part of him had some sympathy for the kid's circumstances. A bigger part said, _"__You __made __your __bed, __now __you __gotta __lie __in __it.__"_

"Hadar Gilbourne."

The Huggie Buggie jumped out of his hand and skittered into the Slytherin common room.

The four of them continued to pull out Huggie Buggies and set them loose on their unsuspecting targets. Graham Montegue. Ares Urquhart. Clarence Warrington. Millicent Bulstrode. Vincent Crabbe. Gregory Goyle. Pansy Parkinson.

And of course, Draco Malfoy.

O'Bannon, Fred, George and Lee all peered round the doorway, watching the dozen or so Huggie Buggies skitter about the common room.

"What are those things?" asked Bulstrode.

The other Slytherins turned toward the approaching Huggie Buggies.

"They look like some kind of toys." Urquhart walked over to them. "Some stupid First Year must have set them loose."

An evil grin formed on Urquhart's lips as he pulled out his wand. "Guess I'll show what happens when you don't take proper care of your -"

One of the Huggie Buggies jumped off the floor and latched itself onto Urquhart. Its legs expanded and wrapped around the lean Slytherin's shoulders.

"I luuuuurv you! I luuuuurv you!" The Huggie Buggie repeated over and over, each time planting a kiss on Urquhart's face with its enormous lips.

The other Slytherins jumped out of their seats. A few of them pulled out their wands. The Huggie Buggies shot through the air, wrapping themselves around the Slytherins. The "I luuuurv yous" merged into a loud, incoherent babble. Pansy shrieked as her Huggie Buggie kissed her right on the lips. Gilbourne tripped over a rug and fell to the floor as he swatted at his Huggie Buggie.

O'Bannon clenched his jaw, trying to contain his laughter. Lee also looked ready to explode.

"Wicked pissah," O'Bannon managed to mutter without breaking up.

"Oh, we haven't even gotten to the good part yet." Fred waggled his eyebrows.

The Slytherins continued stomping and trashing about, trying to dislodged the Huggie Buggies. Several of them either dropped their wands or couldn't reach them. The Huggie Buggies continued to kiss them and blare, "I luuuuurv you."

Then Urquhart's body began to shake. The Huggie Buggie slipped off him. Urquhart pressed his hands against the side of his skull. His face darkened and undulated.

Seconds later a human-sized cockroach head sat on Urquhart's shoulders.

The same thing happened to Pansy Parkinson and Hadar and Crabbe and Goyle and the rest of the Slytherins. They hollered and shrieked as they realized they all had cockroach heads.

Fred and George pushed O'Bannon and Lee up the stairs, with Lee snatching up his sneakoscope. When they reached the first floor, they all howled with laughter.

"Brilliant!" Lee blurted as he doubled over. "Bloody effing brilliant."

"Oh my God!" O'Bannon fell against the wall in hysterics. "Oh my God! That was the funniest thing ever!"

"Did you see the one that went for Pansy Parkinson?" Fred asked through fits of laughter.

"I know," George replied. "Looks like love at first sight to me."

All four of them laughed even louder.

It took several more minutes for them to calm down enough to begin walking back to Gryffindor Tower. O'Bannon shook his head, letting out a snicker as he pictured Malfoy and the other Slytherins running around their common room with cockroach heads. Not only was it funny, but it was nice to get some payback on those jagoffs for the pond incident.

_And __you __were __thinking __of __bailing __and __going __back __to __your __room?_

"Don't know about any of you," Fred said, "but a really great prank always makes me hungry."

"Likewise, Fred," said George.

"To the kitchens, then?" Lee spoke up.

"Absolutely," the twins replied.

A twinge of nervousness went through O'Bannon. They were out well past curfew, and probably shouldn't push their luck any further.

But that feeling of adventurism kicked back in and prevented him from voicing his concerns. He began to enjoy the risk. Would they get away with this or wouldn't they?

He followed Fred, George and Lee until they came to a painting of a gigantic silver fruit bowl. Fred reached up and tickled the pair, which squirmed, giggled, then turned into a green door handle. He pulled open the door and in they went.

O'Bannon looked around at the high-ceiling room that rivaled the Great Hall in size. Mounds of glittering brass pots and pans were heaped around the stone walls and a great brick fireplace sat at the other end of the room. Dozens of house elves scampered about. One in particular, wearing a tea cozy for a hat, a tie with horseshoe patterns, and colorful shorts and socks, ambled up to them.

"Masters Fred, George and Lee. Welcome. Dobby is honored that the friends of the great Harry Potter would visit him."

"Hello, Dobby," Fred greeted the little elf. "We were feeling a bit puckish and thought we'd stop by for a bite."

"It would be Dobby's great honor to serve you." The elf, Dobby, then turned his tennis ball-sized eyes to O'Bannon. "Oh. Dobby sees you have brought a new friend with you."

"Um, yeah. I'm Jimmy O'Bannon, from America. How're ya doing?" He couldn't remember ever properly introducing himself to any of the servant elves who worked at Salem. Then again, servant elves didn't have a sociable bone in their body.

"Is sir, too, a friend of the great and wonderful Harry Potter as Masters Fred, George and Lee are?"

"Um, well, I know him. We get along pretty well."

Dobby's face lit up. He clasped his hands together. "Then it will be Dobby's honor to serve you as well. What do Sirs desire?"

Fred and George asked for sandwiches, while Lee wanted a plate of cauldron cakes.

"I could go for some roly-polies." O'Bannon had grown to love the rolled up, fruit-filled pastry during his four months in England.

"Dobby shall fetch them right away."

The little elf darted off. Minutes later he returned carrying four plates of food. O'Bannon took his and said, "Thanks, Dobby."

The elf's jaw dropped. "Dobby has been thanked for his work. Sir is indeed a most kind and benevolent wizard."

O'Bannon cranked an eyebrow at the overboard reaction. "Uh, yeah. No problem, man."

He took a bite out of the first roly-poly. Blueberry, and delicious. He was about to take another bite when something occurred to him.

"Hey, Dobby. I forgot to ask. Is one of these wild berry, 'cause that's my favorite."

Dobby's entire face sagged. The little elf started shaking and whined, "Dobby is so sorry, Sir. Please do not hate Dobby. Dobby did not make a roly-poly with wild berry. Dobby is a bad house elf. Bad and stupid and worthless!"

Dobby let out a piercing cry and dropped to all fours. He sobbed and slammed his head into the floor. The sound of flesh on brick made O'Bannon jump and spill his roly-polies.

"Dobby!"

The elf cried even louder and smashed his head into the floor again.

"Dobby, stop!"

But Dobby didn't. He sobbed and rammed his head into the floor again and again and again.

Dread welled up inside O'Bannon. My God, Dobby was going to bust his head open, just because he hadn't made him a stupid wild berry roly-poly.

"Dobby, stop it! Dammit!"

He dropped to his knees and stretched out his hand between the floor and Dobby's head.

The little elf drove his head forward. His skull cracked against O'Bannon's knuckles. Something popped. Pain drilled into his hand and up his arm. He let out a roar and jumped to his feet, clutching his throbbing hand. O'Bannon clenched his teeth and held his injured right hand against his stomach.

_It__'__s __broke. __Oh __dammit, __it__'__s __broke._

He glanced at Fred, George and Lee nearby. All three were laughing their asses off at him.

_Jackasses._

"Ahh! Dobby has injured Sir! Dobby has caused harm to a wizard. Dobby is the worst house elf ever."

Dobby wailed so loud it made O'Bannon wince.

Worry flooded O'Bannon. How would Dobby hurt himself now?

He took a deep breath, trying to block out the stabbing pain in his hand. "Dobby, it's no big deal. I can live without a wild berry roly-poly, okay? The rest of 'em are fine." He looked down at the floor, where the rest of the roly-polies lay. He made a face. Even if he did believe in "The Five-Second Rule" for food on the floor, those things had been on it way longer than five seconds.

_Still, __if __it __keeps __Dobby __from __cracking __his __skull__.__.__._

Trying not to groan, he reached down, picked up one of the roly-polies, and shoved it in his mouth. "See," he spoke as he chewed. "Delicious. The best roly-polies I've had here."

Actually, it did taste good. Maybe the elves did a great job keeping the floor clean.

He prayed to God that was the case.

Dobby stopped crying and looked up at him, smiling. "Sir has paid Dobby a compliment. Dobby has injured Sir and forgot to make Sir's favorite roly-poly, yet he compliments Dobby. Dobby does not deserve Sir's kindness."

The little elf stepped closer to him and snapped his fingers. O'Bannon felt another pop in his hand that made him grimace. Moments later all the pain had vanished. He held up his right hand and closed and opened it. No pain. Good as new.

"Thanks, Dobby."

The elf sniffled. "Sir is . . . Sir is most kind to Dobby, after all the trouble Dobby has caused."

Dobby lunged across the floor and wrapped his arms around O'Bannon's leg. He bawled his eyes out, to the point O'Bannon's pant leg became drenched. He waited for Dobby to turn loose of his leg.

And waited . . . and waited . . . and waited.

Dobby continued to hang on and cry.

O'Bannon gently shook his leg. The house elf hung on. He looked over his shoulder at Fred, George and Lee. "Guys, a little help here."

"Oh no." A grinning Fred shook his head. "I don't want to spoil such an intimate moment."

Lee added, "There's a broom closet just down the hall if you two want some privacy."

The three of them laughed.

O'Bannon scowled at them.

Eventually, Dobby let go and darted off. He quickly returned with another plate of roly-polies. All of them wild berry. All of them delicious. Dobby about swooned when O'Bannon thanked him.

Once they finished eating, they said good night to Dobby and the other house elves and headed back to Gryffindor Tower. They did have to duck out of sight from Mrs. Norris, Filch's mangy cat who'd always yowl and alert the jagoff caretaker of Hogwarts whenever there were students in the corridors after hours.

The cat didn't spot them, and the four made it back to Gryffindor Tower without incident.

"Bet you never had an adventure like this back at Salem, ey, Jimmy Boy?" Fred nudged him with an elbow as they went upstairs to the boys dormitory..

"I can honestly say no, I haven't."

"Well don't worry." George slapped him on the shoulder. "Before you head back to The States, you'll have plenty more nights like this, I guarantee it."

This time, O'Bannon did not feel an ounce of worry. On the contrary, he started looking forward to their next late night excursion through Hogwarts. He had to admit, there was a certain rush in sneaking around, pulling pranks and raiding the kitchens without getting caught.

He grinned to himself. Maybe he did have a knack for adventure after all.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	28. The Yule Ball

**CHAPTER 28: THE YULE BALL**

* * *

><p><em>It's Christmas!<em>

That was O'Bannon's first thought when he woke up on December 25th. His second thought did not concern what presents he got, as had been the case every Christmas before. Instead it concerned Mireet Miradeaux. Tonight was the night he'd be taking her to the Yule Ball.

_This __is __gonna __be __so __awesome._

He jumped out of bed, did his bathroom routine and threw on his Bruins jersey and a pair of bluejeans. He decided to skip his usual morning run. It was Christmas, after all. One day off from exercise wouldn't kill him. Instead he sat Indian-style at the foot of his bed and tore into his presents. Mom and Dad had gotten him a new Red Sox T-shirt, a new Bruins ballcap, a poster of Patriots Tight End Ben Coates, two books, a technothriller by Tom Clancy and a biography on Bruins Hall of Fame center Milt Schmidt, and a couple boxes of assorted candy. They also got him two CDS, one by Rush, the other by Van Halen. Not that it would do him much good here, unless Dean actually perfected his spell to let Muggle CDs and video tapes play inside Hogwarts. Given Dean's lack of success so far, O'Bannon wasn't holding his breath.

From Rosa, Jared and Artimus he received a large tin of sweets, some of which were unavailable in Britain, like Norace Nickerbaker's Never-Melt Ice Cream, Polly Pelfley's Bite-Sized Pies and the Chocolate Fountain in a Bottle.

_Great __minds __think __alike._He, too, had sent his best friends at Salem a tin of sweets, many of which were not common in America, like Fizzing Whizzbees and Ice Mice. O'Bannon frowned for a moment, wishing he'd thought to include some of Fred and George's Canary Creams. How funny would that be to have Jared and Rosa turn into big yellow birds in front of their entire family?

Speaking of their families, Rosa's parents had gotten him a Boston Bandits sweatshirt, while Jared's parents got him a book titled _The __History __of __the __US __Aurors __Bureau._From Artimus' father he received nothing. That didn't surprise him. That man never thought much of him or Rosa or Jared.

With all his presents opened, he headed down to the common room, where he ran into Fred and George.

"Jimmy Boy!" They both beamed at him.

"Thanks for the Whoopee Cushions." Fred held up a couple of them. "These things are brilliant."

"Always amazing what Muggles can come up with without magic," said George. "Oi, watch."

George levitated his already inflated Whoopee Cushion toward the staircase leading toward the girls' dormitory just as Hermione came down. Apparently she didn't see it, because when her foot hit the last step . . .

The loud, ripping fart sound echoed through the common room. Heads snapped toward Hermione, who stood there, mouth agape. Lavender and Parvati turned away and giggled. Lee burst out laughing.

"_Accio __Whoopee __Cushion.__" _George summoned it back to him.

"A Whoopee Cushion?" Hermione stared at George. "How did you get a . . ."

She paused and slowly turned her head to O'Bannon. Her eyes narrowed. "Jimmy? Oh for Heaven's sake, it's bad enough Fred and George can do magical pranks. Why on Earth would you give them a Muggle joke item?"

"Hey, just doing my part to promote a better understanding of Muggle culture." He grinned wide.

Hermione continued to glower at him.

O'Bannon followed the twins and Lee through the portrait hole and downstairs to the Great Hall. A still irritated Hermione trailed them, carrying on to Harry and Ron about the Whoopee Cushion. O'Bannon heard Ron snicker.

"Why do boys find that sound so funny?" Hermione scolded him. "Honestly, you all need to grow up."

Her words, though, were lost on the twins. As soon as they reached the Great Hall they placed Whoopee Cushions up and down the Gryffindor table and hid them with Camouflage Charms. Every few minutes somebody sat on them, resulting in shocked and embarrassed expressions. Many boys nearly fell out of their seats laughing. O'Bannon didn't see a single girl who found it funny.

The Beauxbatons contingent arrived a bit late for breakfast, probably from a combination of opening their presents and having to trudge through the snow between their carriage and the castle. Several of them cast Drying and Warming Charms on themselves, looking very annoyed as they did.

O'Bannon sat up straighter when he saw Mireet waving to him. He waved back as she strode around the Gryffindor table, a fair share of boys casting admiring stares as she walked past.

"Jimmy. Thank you for the present. It is beautiful." She leaned down, hugged him and kissed him on both cheeks. An airy feeling swept through his body as his heart sped up. It took him a few moments to remember how to talk.

"Um, uh, you're welcome." He had bought her a magical flower pot that sprouted new, different colored flowers every few hours. "And, um, thank you for your gift."

"I only hope you do not have difficulty catching them." Mireet gave him a wry grin. She had gotten him a box of chocolates in the shape of Quidditch balls that could actually fly around the room.

"Something that good, trust me, those things ain't gettin' away from me."

Mireet laughed softly. "I hope you enjoy them." She paused. "And I am very much looking forward to the Yule Ball."

"Me too. It's gonna be a blast."

Mireet knitted her brow. "_Pardon?__"_

"Oh, I just mean it's gonna be fun."

"I believe so, too." Her smile grew wider. "I will let you get back to your breakfast. _Au __revoir.__"_

"_Au __revoir,__"_ he replied, doubting he said the phrase as smoothly as Mireet.

She beamed at him and headed back to the Ravenclaw table. He watched her go, thinking ahead to the Yule Ball, imagining Mireet in a nice dress, holding her as they danced, then kissing her.

"I hope no one has anything important to tell Jimmy," he was vaguely aware of Fred speaking. "Looks like his mind's going to be occupied for the rest of breakfast."

"More like the rest of the day," George added. "Blimey, he looks like someone who fell into a vat of love potion."

"Oh, leave him alone," Ginny snapped at her brothers. "I think it's sweet."

O'Bannon didn't say a word. He just continued picturing himself and Mireet at the Yule Ball.

**XXXXX**

After breakfast, O'Bannon and the rest of his housemates returned to Gryffindor Tower, where many of them hung out in the common room enjoying their presents. Much to the chagrin of the female Gryffindors, Fred and George had not grown bored with their Whoopee Cushions. At one point, a wand-wielding Hermione chased them upstairs to the boys' dormitory, threatening to incinerate the Whoopee Cushions and inflict numerous, unpleasant curses on them.

The Quidditch ball candy Mireet gave him proved a bit difficult to catch. One time he slapped his hands over a snitch, crushing it and coating his palms with chocolate. Then one of the chocolate Bludgers flew right into the burning fireplace. No way was he going to get that.

He also took a risk and loaned Dean his Rush CD to see if he get the thing to play. After about five minutes of wand waving and incantations, he heard the deep strums of a bass guitar that he instantly recognized as the beginning of "The Pass."

"I did it!" Dean jumped to his feet, looking down at the CD in surprise.

"Wicked pissah!" O'Bannon pumped a fist. "Dean, you're a frigging genius."

Suddenly the bass was replaced by a low, steady hum that went on and on. O'Bannon slouched to one side.

Dean sighed. "Back to the bloody drawing board, I guess."

When noon rolled around the Hogwarts students were treated to a magnificent lunch, which consisted of turkeys, Christmas puddings and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers. Afterwards, many of them ventured outside. Snow covered the grounds, untouched save for the paths created by the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students on their way to the castle. O'Bannon took a deep breath of cold air as he gazed around the white landscape. He got the urge to transfigure something into a sled, find the tallest hill at school and –

He caught a flash of white out the corner of his eye. He turned to the right just as a snowball exploded off Katie Bell's head. Nearby, Fred and George laughed.

O'Bannon grinned wide. Forget about sledding. That couldn't compare to a snowball fight.

As Katie bent down, O'Bannon scooped up a handful of snow and dashed over to her. She just straightened up, snowball in hand, when he came up behind her, yanked back her collar, and dumped snow down her back. Katie shrieked and jumped in the air with enough vertical to impress an NBA player. O'Bannon shook with laughter while Fred, George and Lee cheered him on.

"Jimmy O'Bannon, you stupid arse!" Katie yelled before hurling a snowball at him. He just ducked out of the way.

And it was on.

Dozens upon dozens of snowballs soared through the air. O'Bannon nailed Fred, George, Lee, Seamus and even Harry Potter numerous times. But he also took his fair share of hits.

At one point, Lee and Angelina had him cornered at the castle wall.

"Nowhere to run, Jimmy." Lee grinned as he took another step closer. "Looks like it's -"

A snowball nailed Lee on the shoulder. Seconds later another one struck Angelina.

O'Bannon looked past the two Gryffindors. Mireet flung another snowball and hit Lee in the chest.

"Bloody hell! Retreat!"

Lee and Angelina ran off as Mireet threw another snowball at them, missing.

"Hey," O'Bannon said. "I thought it was supposed to be the guy who saved the damsel in distress."

Mireet put her hands on her hips and shot him a faux glare. "If you wish, I can leave you here to fend for yourself."

"No, no. I'll take whatever help I can get."

Mireet chuckled before they plunged back into the snowball fight. At one point he noticed she was the only one from Beauxbatons participating in it. That had to say a lot about Mireet's personality, where she wanted to come out and play in the snow while the rest of her classmates were holed up in their warm carriage.

_Could __this __girl __be __any __cooler?_

Late in the afternoon, Hermione, who'd watched the entire snowball fight from the sidelines, announced she was heading back to the dorm to get ready for the Yule Ball.

"What, you need three hours?" Ron looked at her incredulously, which gave George the opportunity to nail him in the head. He quickly shook it off and shouted after Hermione, "Who're you going with?"

Hermione just waved at him before she went inside the castle. Ron turned away with a disappointed look on his face.

O'Bannon shook his head, wondering why Ron cared so much about who Hermione's date was for the Yule Ball. He doubted Ron had any desire to go with the bushy-haired know-it-all, the way she always rode his ass about everything.

"I should probably go, too," Mireet said. "I have much to do to get ready for the ball."

"All right. I'll see you in a few hours." O'Bannon smiled.

"_Au __revoir.__" _She waved and headed back to the carriage.

"_Au __revoir.__" _He waved back, then turned around and searched for someone to nail with a snowball.

"Oh Jimmy," Mireet called out.

"Yeah." He turned around . . . and got nailed right in the mouth with a snowball. He took a step back, shook his head, and spat out little bits of snow.

"Are you all right?" Mireet asked as she laughed.

O'Bannon wiped the last remnants of snow from his face. "You are so gonna get it."

He bounded over to her. Mireet scooped up a handful of snow and began balling it up when he reached her. He gently took hold of her wrist and tried to get her to drop it.

"No! No!" Mireet laughed and tried to push him away.

They spun in a circle, O'Bannon shaking Mireet's wrist. She still wouldn't let go of the snowball.

Their feet tangled up. They tumbled to the snow, both of them letting out a laugh when they landed.

O'Bannon froze when he realized Mireet was on top of him, his hand resting on her back. They stared at each other, not saying a word. He felt his chest tighten as he gazed at her smooth, clear face. My God, he couldn't get over how beautiful she was.

His focus moved to Mireet's lips. His heart hammered in his chest. Did she just lower her head toward his?

"Jimmy! Mireet! Are you okay?"

The voice of Dennis Creevey broke their connection. O'Bannon gave a slight shudder, and so did Mireet. They both turned to the little First Year.

"Yeah, we're fine," he said, letting Mireet get to her feet before standing himself. A flash of anger went through him as he looked at Dennis again.

_Thanks __a __lot, __man._He wished Dennis could have been like the vast majority of First Years and gone home for the holidays. But his older brother, Colin, had convinced Professor McGonagall to let him be the official photographer for the Yule Ball, and Dennis had volunteered to be his assistant.

Mireet bid him farewell again and headed back to the Beauxbatons carriage. Before long Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Ginny and the other Gryffindor girls also left to get ready for the Yule Ball. He and the other guys continued their snowball fight well after sunset, stopping only when their arms tired out and they realized the Yule Ball was just an hour away.

As they headed back to Gryffindor Tower, O'Bannon, Fred, George and Lee came up alongside Harry and Ron. Both boys had their heads hung low, and grim looks on their faces. To O'Bannon, they acted as though they were on their way to the gallows.

"Why so glum, you two?" asked Lee. "You're going to the ball with the fit Indian twins. You oughta be smiling."

Harry and Ron just looked at Lee and frowned.

"I believe I know what's troubling Harry and Ickle Ronniekins," said Fred.

"Do tell," urged George.

"Unless they've been keeping secrets from us, I do believe this is their very first date."

"Ah, no wonder they look so nervous and unsure of themselves."

"Were we ever like that when we were their age?" Lee smirked.

"Not us, that's for sure." Fred nodded to his brother, then turned back to Lee. "Can't say the same about you, though."

"Get stuffed." Lee scowled at them.

Fred and George just grinned, with Fred clasping a hand on Harry's and Ron's shoulders. "All right. I believe it's time to pass on our vast knowledge in dealing with the opposite sex to you two."

"Uh-huh," Harry muttered, while Ron looked even more miserable.

"First," Fred said. "Make sure you tell them they're beautiful. Girls love hearing that."

"And not just overall," George added. "But get specific. Like tell them they have beautiful eyes. Girls have a thing for the eyes."

"But don't say something like you have a nice bum," Lee offered, "otherwise you might get slapped."

"And Lee knows that from experience." Fred shot him a wry grin.

"Oh shut it."

"Not just their eyes, but their hair," said O'Bannon. "Girls spend a lot of time fixing up their hair, so you gotta tell 'em it looks really nice."

"But what if it doesn't?" asked Ron.

"Then you lie and say it does."

"But if their hair doesn't look good, wouldn't they want someone to tell them so they can fix it?"

O'Bannon, Fred, George and Lee all slowed their pace and gaped at him.

"What?" Ron gave them a puzzled look.

O'Bannon groaned and shook his head. "You wanna do that, go ahead. But instead of spending the night kissing a girl you'll be kissing your pillow."

Fred, George and Lee howled with laughter. Ron's nose wrinkled. Harry just stared at the floor as they reached the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower.

"And Harry." O'Bannon slapped him on the shoulder. "You're the friggin' Tri-Wizard Champion for Hogwarts. You took on a dragon and won. You gotta play that up, man."

Fred, George and Lee all nodded, with Lee adding, "Jimmy's right. After what you did in the tournament there's no way Parvati Patil will be able to keep her hands off you."

"Hell yeah!" O'Bannon pumped his fist.

The four of them slapped Harry and Ron on the back. Harry gave them a brief, forced smile. O'Bannon wondered why he wasn't more excited going to the Yule Ball with a babe like Parvati Patil.

_Probably __just __nervous._

When O'Bannon returned to his room, he showered, shaved and changed into his dress robes. He thought about the letter he was going to write to Rosa, Jared and Artimus about the Yule Ball, and wondered what they'd think when he told them he had given woman advice to _The _Harry Potter.

When he finished dressing and checking himself out in the mirror, he looked at his alarm clock. Twenty minutes till eight. Twenty minutes until the Yule Ball. Twenty minutes until his date with Mireet. My God, it was actually here.

That's when his nervousness grew. What if he said or did something stupid? What if he bored Mireet?

_No. __That__'__s __not __gonna __happen._ Heck, they almost kissed during the snowball fight earlier today.

_Unless __I __misread __that __whole __thing._

His stomach twisted. For a moment, he didn't want to leave his room. But he took a deep breath, summoned up some Gryffindor courage, and headed for the door. He tried to beat down his nerves, tried to assure himself everything would be great.

_But __what __if __it__'__s __not?_

O'Bannon found the common room packed with well dressed boys and girls. He spotted Fred, George and Lee near the fireplace with Angelina, Alicia and Katie, all of them getting their picture taken by Colin Creevey. O'Bannon's eyes widened as he focused on the girls, all of them with their hair done up and wearing brightly colored, form-fitting gowns.

_Damn, __I __got __me __some __hot __friends._

"Jimmy." Katie smiled at him. "You look very nice."

"Thanks. So do you. All of you."

"Oh thank you, Jimmy," Fred said in a high-pitched voice and batted his eyes. That earned him a smack on the shoulder by Angelina.

"Let's get going," George suggested. "We don't want Jimmy to keep his date waiting."

O'Bannon just nodded, feeling his palms moisten with sweat. He wiped them on his dress robes as he followed his friends through the portrait hole and down the steps. The closer they got to the first floor, the more his palms sweated, and the more he wiped them on his dress robes.

"You know, if you keep that up, your robes are going to be absolutely soaked."

"Huh?" He looked over his shoulder and found Katie giving him a sympathetic smile. She then pulled out her wand from her flowing green gown.

"Here, let me see your hands."

"Um, okay." O'Bannon stopped near the bottom of the steps and presented his palms to Katie. She waved her wand and uttered a quick incantation. Instantly his palms felt dry.

"Just a handy little charm Alicia taught me," Katie said. "Rather useful on first dates."

"Thanks. You rock, Bell."

"My pleasure."

With a smile, O'Bannon resumed his pace, relieved that his palms no longer sweat.

He then wondered if Katie knew any charms to get rid of the butterflies that battered his stomach.

A cacophony of voices filled the corridors as they neared the entrance hall. Students from the other Hogwarts houses, along with those from the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents, filed toward the closed doors of the Great Hall. Most of the boys sported dark dress robes, while the girls wore gowns of various designs and colors. He did a double-take when he came across Susan Bones. A bit of a plain jane, she looked absolutely stunning with her hair done up and wearing a pink and white gown. O'Bannon flashed a grin at Susan's date, Justin Finch-Fletchley. _Best __of __luck, __dude._

"Jimmy! Over here!"

He stopped when he heard the silky French accent. Swallowing, he stared across the hall and spotted Mireet. His knees buckled.

_Oh__.__.__.__my__.__.__.__God._

She wore a sparkling silver gown that perfectly hugged her taut, athletic frame. Her flowing blond hair had been done up, though loose strands cascaded down each cheek.

He continued staring at Mireet. Was he really going to the Yule Ball with her? How the hell did he end up with a witch so mind-blowingly gorgeous without downing an entire jug of Luck Potion?

"Um, hey mate?"

Fred's voice snapped him out of his stupor. He spun around to face him.

"I think she wants you to go over to her."

"Oh. Um, yeah, right."

"Go on." Katie patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine."

O'Bannon nodded. He drew a deep breath, trying to ignore his pounding heart and churning stomach. Shoulders squared, he strode across the corridor, weaving his way around several students.

Mireet's smile grew as he approached. His eyes roamed up and down her body. He noticed she appeared even taller than normal. She had to be wearing heels. Not too high, though, thankfully. Mireet was already taller than him without heels.

He chewed on his lip. Ever since he asked Mireet to the Yule Ball he had this scene pictured in his head. It always looked so cool in the world of his imagination. But would it fly in real life? Would she think it tacky? Would she think he was forcing himself on her?

He drew a deep breath and decided to go for it.

"Mireet. You, um . . . you look beautiful . . . _Mademoiselle.__"_ He took her right hand, raised it to his lips and lightly kissed it. He tensed, praying she appreciated the gesture.

When he raised his eyes, he was rewarded with a huge smile.

"_Merci_, _Monsieur _O'Bannon. May I say you look very handsome tonight."

"Thanks." The smile threatened to consume his face. "So, um, looking forward to this?"

"_Oui._ I am anxious to see what this Yule Ball is like. Hopefully it isn't as, what is the term, straight-laced as the formal dances we have at Beauxbatons."

"Well if they're bringing in the Weird Sisters for this thing, I doubt there's gonna be anything straight-laced about it. I mean, if you like the Weird Sisters."

"You are not a fan of theirs?"

"They're okay." O'Bannon shrugged. "Actually, there's only a couple of Wizarding bands I really like, like Deadly Curses, probably because they sound a lot like Iron Maiden. Then there's this one group from Canada called Frozen Aurora. The lead singer's a Muggle-born, and you can tell he's been seriously influenced by Rush."

Mireet canted her head. "Iron Maiden? Rush? I have not heard of those bands."

"Oh. They're both Muggle bands. Two of the best Muggle bands _ever, _along with Led Zeppelin."

"You have piqued my curiosity. I am going to have to find a way to listen to them."

"Well if Dean ever gets his charm that'll play Muggle CDs to work in here, we can get together one day and listen to them."

"I would like that."

O'Bannon's insides swelled. That was a good sign that there could be more between them beyond the Yule Ball.

At eight o'clock on the dot, the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Well, shall we?" O'Bannon held out his arm.

"_Oui.__"_ Mireet smiled and slipped her arm around his elbow.

Standing ramrod straight, chest puffed out, he escorted Mireet through the throng of students into the Great Hall. His earlier fears and anxiety dissolved. He knew deep down in his soul this would be the best Christmas of his life.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	29. Dance of Dreams

**CHAPTER 29: DANCE OF DREAMS**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon couldn't stop himself from glancing over at Mireet every few seconds. His heart swelled as he noted the huge smile on her face. She seemed to really enjoy being with him.<p>

He inhaled deeply and followed the flow of students through the Great Hall. The place had been decorated very nicely for the Yule Ball. Sparkling silver frost covered the walls. Above them, hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy criss-crossed the starry black ceiling.

Many of the couples broke away from the pack to find a place to sit. The four house tables had been removed, replaced by smaller, lantern-lit ones that could seat a dozen. Fred and George's sister, Ginny, was grinning and looking all around the Great Hall, while her date, Neville Longbottom, looked so pale O'Bannon wondered if he would faint. Both Ron and Padma Patil appeared miserable.

_Jeez, __we __haven__'__t __been __here __more __than __a __minute. _What could their problem be?

Then he caught sight of Draco Malfoy, who wore high-collared, black velvet robes. The ferrety little prick caught his gaze and sneered at him. So did his date, Pansy Parkinson. O'Bannon's eyes widened for a split second. In her frilly pink robes, and with added make up and her hair done up, Pansy actually looked very nice.

Too bad she didn't have the personality to match.

"Oi! Jimmy, Mireet. Over here."

He turned to find Fred waving at them from a nearby table, with Angelina, George and Alicia around him. They made their way through the crowd to join them, as did Lee and Katie a minute later. O'Bannon pulled out Mireet's seat – which earned him another gorgeous smile – when a tall, thin young man with blazing red hair and horn-rimmed glasses walked up to the table.

Fred shook his head in disbelief. "I say, George. Do my eyes deceive me? Is that our brother Percy standing before us?"

"It can't be. Percy wouldn't be caught dead in a place where there was even the hint of a fun time."

Percy's lip curled. O'Bannon half-expected him to break out the classic _Monty __Python _line, "We are not amused."

"So what brings you back to Hogwarts, Perc?" asked Lee.

Percy shot him a disapproving look, apparently not liking the shortened version of his name. "I'm here on behalf of Mister Crouch."

"Why couldn't he make it?" asked Fred.

"Does your boss hate fun as much as you do?" George added.

Percy narrowed his eyes at the twins, then lifted his chin. "I've been promoted. I am now Mister Crouch's personal assistant."

Both Fred and George let out a long, "ooh," pretending to be impressed.

"Such a great honor, Perc," George remarked.

"You don't mind if we bask in your glory, do you?" Fred said.

Lee and the girls all sniggered. O'Bannon lowered his head and hid a smile from Percy. Even though Fred, George and Ginny had filled him in on their super-serious brother, he didn't feel it appropriate to laugh at someone he didn't know personally.

Percy huffed. "This is not a laughing matter."

"Nothing is a laughing matter where you're concerned." Fred grinned at him.

"Mister Crouch is under a great amount of strain. It's no wonder, with all the work that's gone into bringing back the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The fiasco at the World Cup this past summer and having to dismiss that house elf of his didn't help matters any. Though hopefully, with a little bit of rest, Mister Crouch should be right as rain soon and back at the Ministry."

"We'll be awaiting his return with bated breath," said Fred.

Percy glared at him.

"Meanwhile, aren't you going to show some manners and say hello to our new friends from abroad." George pointed a hand toward O'Bannon and Mireet.

Percy turned to them, his gaze instantly falling to Mireet. Admiration flared in his eyes as the French witch held out her hand and introduced herself.

"Hello." Percy shook her hand. "Percy Weasley, Assistant to Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

O'Bannon rolled his eyes. Did the guy really think that title was so impressive?

A flash of jealousy went through him as he caught Percy checking out Mireet. She simply gave him a polite nod and smile and turned away. O'Bannon couldn't help but smile himself. It seemed Mireet preferred nice, outgoing hockey players to pompous, self-important dipsticks like Percy Weasley.

Dipstick or not, O'Bannon still offered his hand to Fred and George's brother. "Hey. Jimmy O'Bannon."

Percy furrowed his brow as they shook hands. "You're American?"

"Yeah. Exchange student from the Salem Witches Institute."

Percy sighed. "You Americans need to stop being so stubborn."

O'Bannon did a double take. "What?"

"I honestly don't understand the reluctance of you Americans to not go along with an international standard for cauldron thickness. I was working on that issue before my promotion. Have you any idea how many cauldrons we import from other countries, including America, are substandard and leak? It can be cleared up so easily if you Americans would adhere to a set of international standards, but of course, you always have to go your own way."

O'Bannon looked at him, absolutely stupefied. It sounded as though Percy was blaming him personally for any badly-made cauldrons Britain received..

"Don't worry, Perc," Fred said. "Maybe Jimmy can set those Department of Magic folks straight about your precious cauldrons when he goes back to The States."

O'Bannon thought he saw Mireet tense up for a moment.

"That is, if he cares about such a thing," George spoke up. "Mind you, I doubt he does."

Percy gave his brothers a look so stern O'Bannon wondered if he got it by observing Professor McGonagall. "You two. This is an important even, not only for Hogwarts, but for the Ministry itself. I'll not have it ruined because of your usual foolishness. Do I make myself clear?"

"Oh please." Fred gave him a dismissive wave. "We're always on our best behavior."

"Well, most times," said George.

"Sometimes."

"Maybe every once in a while."

Percy groaned and stalked off.

"Nice meeting you," O'Bannon muttered under his breath.

"Much as I hate to agree with Percy, he is right." Angelina put her hands on her hips. "No pranks tonight. This is a big night and I don't want it spoiled because you gits couldn't go more than an hour without chucking a dung bomb or slipping someone a Snot Rocket Special. All right?"

"Yes, dear." Fred batted his eyes at Angelina.

She glared at him for several seconds, then flashed him a brief smile.

When everyone sat down, Mireet asked the twins, "He is really your brother?"

"Unfortunately," they both replied.

"He does not act like either of you, or Ginny."

"I know," said George. "We think Mum found him in the woods one day and decided to bring him home."

"Just be glad you don't have a brother like him," Fred told her.

"_Oui.__" _Mireet lowered her head, her smile fading.

O'Bannon leaned closer to her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She turned back to him. _"__Oui._ I am fine." She smiled at him, though it seemed a bit forced.

Before he could dwell on it any more, applause rang out through the Great Hall as the champions entered.

"Merlin's beard!' Katie's eyes bulged. "Is that . . . Is that Hermione Granger? With Viktor Krum?"

"What?" O'Bannon, Lee and Alicia blurted at the same time. He looked past Fleur Delacour and her date, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain Roger Davies, and spotted Hermione on Krum's arm. She wore blue robes and her normally bushy brown hair was sleek and shiny.

_Wow, __she __actually __looks __hot._

"How about that, George?" Fred turned to his twin. "Our little Hermione, all grown up."

"I know." George grabbed his cloth napkin and wiped away fake tears. "Where does the time go?"

"Knock it off," Alicia told him. "I think she looks beautiful."

"I'd like to know how she snagged Viktor Krum," said Katie.

Actually, O'Bannon had to admit he was a little curious. An international Quidditch star and a bookworm made for an unlikely couple.

Once the champions were seated at the head table with the Tournament judges, and a very superior-looking Percy Weasley, dinner began. Instead of vast amounts of food appearing in front of them as usual, everyone had small menus next to their plates. O'Bannon looked it over and uttered, "Boeuf Bourguignon," hoping Mireet would appreciate the fact he ordered a French dish. Within moments a plate of beef cubes with onions and carrots covered in a dark sauce appeared before him.

"That looks delicious," Mireet commented. "I believe you will enjoy that." She paused. "In fact . . ."

She ordered the Boeuf Bourguignon as well.

Everyone talked as they ate, about the Weird Sisters playing here, about all the homework they had to do during break. The Brits also asked O'Bannon and Mireet questions about their respective schools, then began comparing and contrasting Hogwarts, Salem and Beauxbatons. Jaws dropped around the table when Mireet told everyone how her Potions teacher was a flamboyant, jovial man beloved by his students.

"I'll trade our potions teacher for yours," Lee offered.

"After all the stories you have told me about your Professor Snape, I do not think so."

"Well I wouldn't mind having Jimmy's History of Magic teacher from Salem," said Alicia. "Someone who's engaging and nice and doesn't bore you to tears."

"And someone who knows your name," Fred said.

"Six years with Professor Binns and he still calls you Miss Spillman," George added.

"That is, when he actually notices you, or anyone else in that class."

Everyone around the table laughed. When they finished their dinner and summoned their dessert – _it__'__s __pudding __here__ – _O'Bannon and Mireet conversed among themselves. She talked about some of her previous experiences with Muggle sports and activities in between bites of her raspberry mousse.

"Football seemed rather enjoyable, but because I was always the tallest girl on my team, the coach wanted me to play keeper. I would much rather be out on the field with everyone else, running and kicking the ball, instead of standing around the net waiting for something to happen."

"Well, I was never that big into soccer, or I guess I should call it football here. Still, it's cool that your mom wanted you to know about Muggle stuff first-hand. I know more than my share of purebloods back at Salem who think that would be a waste of time."

"_Oui_, there are many such people at Beauxbatons as well. They are also not shy about expressing their feelings on the matter to me." Mireet's smile faded. She turned her gaze away from him. Before O'Bannon could ask if she was okay, she spoke again. "But I cannot allow how they look upon me to influence the way I live my life. I enjoy learning and trying new things, be they magical or Muggle. If they cannot accept that, the fault is theirs, not mine."

O'Bannon stared at her, not saying a word. Waves of respect and admiration surged through him. With her looks, Mireet could easily be part of the popular set at her school. But she chose to do her own thing, her social status be damned. He preferred those individuals who followed their own path than the ones who went along with the crowd to be accepted.

He couldn't recall being more attracted to Mireet Miradeaux than he was at this moment.

When everyone had finished their pudding, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up at the head table, and asked the students to do the same. With a wave of his wand, he sent the tables zooming back along the walls to leave the floor clear. Next he conjured a stage with a drum set, several guitars, a cello, a lute and some bagpipes.

"And now for your listening and dancing pleasure, a group I'm sure you're all very familiar with . . . The Weird Sisters."

Cheers and applause thundered through the Great Hall. O'Bannon also clapped as the band trooped up onto the stage. With their skinny frames and long, wild hair, The Weird Sisters reminded him of a typical 1980s-era metal band, though with black robes instead of spandex. They struck up a slow, mournful tune as the champions and their dates walked out to the middle of the floor and began dancing. Harry seemed a little nervous at first, but soon relaxed as he and Parvati slowly revolved around the same spot on the floor. Hermione was beaming as she stared into Viktor Krum's face.

_Is __there __really __something __going __on __with __those __two?_

Cedric looked proud of himself as he twirled around a giggling Cho Chang.

_Showoff._

Roger Davies had the goofiest look on his face that O'Bannon had ever seen. The Ravenclaw's wide eyes stayed glued to Fleur Delacour, who had her chin held high as she danced.

Soon Dumbledore signaled the other students to come onto the dance floor. O'Bannon held his breath, his heart racing. He turned to Mireet. A smile spread across her face.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"You bet." O'Bannon held out his hand and led her onto dance floor. Electricity shot through him as he placed his hands on Mireet's waist, while she rested her hands on his shoulders. He had to crane his neck a bit to look into her bright blue eyes, but he didn't mind. He was holding Mireet, dancing with her. This was beyond awesome.

The song ended much too soon for him. The Weird Sisters then broke into a loud, hammering beat. Everyone, including him and Mireet, danced wildly and exuberantly, none more so than Fred and Angelina. In fact, several people backed away from them for fear of injury.

Much as he wished the Weird Sisters would play another slow song, he still got into the harsh guitar licks and rapid drumbeat that filled the Great Hall. At one point he snapped his head up and down headbanger-style. To his surprise, Mireet imitated him. It caused several strands of her done up hair to become unraveled, not that it appeared she cared. When the next song began, another fast-paced one, Mireet reached out and took both of O'Bannon's hands. They spun each other around, smiling and laughing.

When they let go of one another, he looked past Mireet's shoulder and saw Katie Bell and Susan Bones howling with laughter as they watched Dean Thomas stiffly move his arms and torso.

"Check that out. Looks like Dean just introduced the Wizarding World to The Robot."

"What?" She turned around and spotted Dean. Then, to O'Bannon's surprise, she started doing The Robot. Even better than Dean.

"Go Mireet!" Katie shouted. "Wooooo!"

O'Bannon threw his head back and laughed. _Is __this __witch __beyond __cool __or __what?_

His gaze fell to a table off to his right. There he saw Ron Weasley down a butterbeer, completely oblivious to the dirty looks Padma Patil threw his way. Harry Potter slouched in the seat next to Ron, while Parvati crossed her arms and legs, the expression on her face matching her sister's.

_What __the __hell __is __wrong __with __those __two?_ O'Bannon shook his head. Here Harry and Ron were at the Yule Ball with hot Indian twins and they're flat out ignoring them? Didn't they listen to the advice he, Fred, George and Lee gave them earlier today on how to treat Parvati and Padma if they wanted to get lucky?

_Obviously __not._

Well, he couldn't spend the night worrying about those guys. He had his own date to focus on.

The hours flew by as they danced and laughed and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. O'Bannon relished every slow dance he shared with Mireet, especially since it seemed the space between them grew smaller and smaller with each successive song.

At about five minutes to midnight, Myron Wagtail, The Weird Sisters lead singer, stepped to the edge of the stage. "Did you lot have a bloody great time tonight!"

O'Bannon, Mireet and the rest of the students screamed out in approval.

"Yeah!" Wagtail pumped his fist. "You were a great audience. Thank you for having us. We're gonna leave you with our latest song, which thanks to folks like you is up to Number Four on the WWN Music Chart."

A soulful guitar riff filled the Great Hall. O'Bannon's stomach dropped into a black hole. He didn't want this to be the last song. He didn't want this night to end.

"Well." He took Mireet's hand. "Last dance, _Mademoiselle.__"_

She smiled and drew closer to him. They wrapped their arms around one another. For a quick moment, he felt Mireet tense. Then she let out a breath and rested her head on his shoulder. Euphoria flooded O'Bannon as he savored the feel of Mireet's hair against his cheek. He closed his eyes, the song, which reminded him of some 80s power ballad, filled his ears.

_I thought my search would be in vain._

_I thought nothing would end the pain,_

_In my lonely, lonely heart._

_But that's when I finally found you,_

_And that's when my life did truly start._

He thought back to the girls he dated back at Salem. Flavia Farnsworth, his first real girlfriend. Penny Nichols, his last girlfriend who broke up with him via owl mail. Neither of them possessed the . . . depth that Mireet did.

Neither of them made him feel the way he felt now.

He held Mireet tighter as the song continued.

_When I look into your eyes._

_When I feel our hearts collide._

_I know, I know deep within my soul,_

_I fiiiiiinally found perfection._

When the last note of the song faded, the students erupted into wild applause. The Weird Sisters took their bows and headed off the stage.

"This was so wonderful." Mireet beamed. "I cannot wait to write my family and tell them all about this ball. Thank you for asking me to it."

"Thank you for coming with me."

Mireet's smile grew wider. She took hold of his shoulders and gently kissed his cheeks. His entire body turned to jelly.

Everyone filed out of the Great Hall. He noticed Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones holding hands and smiling at one another. Fred and Angelina talked animatedly. Parvati and Padma strode into the corridor, each one with a male Beauxbatons student on their arm. He frowned for a moment, thinking of Harry and Ron. Not a stellar night for them when their dates leave the dance with other guys.

Hermione Granger seemed to float on the air as she bade Viktor Krum good night. Then she shot Ron a very cold look and stalked up the stairs.

_Wonder __what __that__'__s __about._

"I wish this ball was not over. I feel I could dance until the sun comes up."

O'Bannon turned back to Mireet and smiled. "That makes two of us, especially if all that dancing is with you."

"Jimmy." She looked away momentarily, her cheeks flush.

"Um, so, can I walk you back to your carriage?"

"_Oui. _I would like that very much."

She fetched her thick cloak, which O'Bannon draped over her shoulders. The two of them headed outside into the cold air. He walked slowly, letting the other Beauxbatons students get far ahead of them. He wanted to be alone with Mireet when he said what he'd been dying to say to her all night long.

The powder-blue carriage came into view. O'Bannon's heart hammered as he stopped near it and took Mireet's hand.

"Um, Mireet. I had an awesome time with you tonight. You're . . . well, I mean, just saying you're awesome is an understatement."

Mireet shuddered slightly as she took a breath. _"__Merci, _Jimmy. And you . . . you have become very dear to me. I am so happy I have gotten to know you."

His back stiffened. He gave Mireet's hand a gentle squeeze. "Mireet. I . . . I really like you. And tonight, when we were dancing and I was holding you. I just . . . I just never met anyone like you before. You're wonderful and awesome and nice and so . . . so beautiful."

Mireet stared at him, every muscle in her body seemingly frozen. He tried to read her expression. He couldn't tell if she was flattered by what he said or if she . . .

_No. __Don__'__t __even __think __that._

He glanced down. They still held hands.

Holding his breath, he stepped forward.

Mireet didn't move.

He leaned closer, his focus on her lips. She didn't back away.

His heart thumped furiously. The space between his lips and Mireet's grew smaller.

"Jimmy."

He stopped inches from her face. "Yeah, Mireet?"

She closed her eyes and lowered her head. Her hands slipped from his.

An invisible fist punched O'Bannon in the gut. _What__'__s __going __on?_

"Jimmy, I wish . . . I do not know if I can do this."

"Huh? Wha-What do you mean?"

"It's just . . ." She held her hand up to her mouth. O'Bannon got the sense she tried to hold back a sniffle. "Before we left to come to Hogwarts, there was . . . there was a boy. Marc-Andre. We had been together for two years, and I loved him very much. I believed he would be the one I would eventually marry. But . . . but his family is very wealthy. They mingle in very important circles. Marc-Andre's parents felt it was unseemly for someone from such a prominent family to be involved with a witch . . ." Mireet sniffled and bit her lip. "Involved with a witch whose mother works in our Ministry's Office of Muggle Relations, and who engages voluntarily in Muggle activities. So he . . . he broke up with me."

She lowered her head. O'Bannon just stared at her.

Mireet half-breathed, half-sobbed and looked back up at him. "Marc-Andre shattered my heart. I had never hurt so much in my life."

"I'd never hurt you like that, Mireet."

"But you will."

His face crinkled in bewilderment. "What?"

"Jimmy, I do want to be with you. But six months from now, you will return to America, and I will return to France. Who knows if we will ever see one another again? If I let myself fall for you, I know my heart is going to shatter again when you leave. I . . . I'm sorry. I just cannot bear to go through that sort of pain again."

The world completely stopped. O'Bannon's mind refused to accept Mireet's words. She couldn't have said that. Not after the great time they had tonight. There was a connection between them. How could she ignore it? How could she let an ex-boyfriend who was a jackass ruin things for them?

"I am sorry, Jimmy. Please do not hate me."

He stood like a statue. An empty pit formed inside him. So many hopes, so many expectations, so many daydreams of him and Mireet walking along the lake holding hands, of spending Hogsmeade weekends together, of finding some secluded place on campus to enjoy some intimate moments.

None of that would happen now.

"Jimmy?"

His mouth opened and closed silently for several seconds. Finally he managed to speak.

"Um, yeah. Well, I better go. Good night."

He spun on his heel and stalked off.

"Jimmy," Mireet called out in a pleading tone.

He kept on walking.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	30. Have or Have Not

**CHAPTER 30: HAVE OR HAVE NOT**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon spent half the night staring up at the darkened ceiling of his room. Images of his conversation with Mireet tortured his mind. Even hours after it happened, he still couldn't believe it. She told him she felt the same way about him as he did her. How could she let an ex-boyfriend keep them from being together? How long had it been since Penny Nichols broke up with him? Two months. Hell yeah it had hurt at the time, but he got over it. He moved on. Why couldn't Mireet do the same?<p>

Eventually he drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, sunlight streamed through the curtains. He laid in bed for a while, wanting to just stay there for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of the week.

But nature called. Groaning, he got up and padded off to the bathroom. Once he finished in there, he put on his sweats and went out for a run. Maybe it would help him get over what happened last night.

It didn't. Mireet's words continued to echo through his head. He purposefully avoided running near the lake, in case she was out for her morning swim. His new path took him past the Quidditch pitch, the edge of the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's cabin.

"Mornin', Jimmy," Hagrid called out as he carried an enormous pile of firewood. "Beautiful mornin', ain't it?"

"Uh-huh. Sure," he muttered and continued jogging.

When he returned to Gryffindor Tower he passed Dean and Seamus on the staircase.

"Happy Boxing Day, Jimmy," said Dean.

"Um, yeah. Same to you." O'Bannon scrunched his face as he continued up the stairs. He'd heard the term Boxing Day before, and knew countries like Britain and Canada celebrated it the day after Christmas. What the day was, exactly, he couldn't say. He doubted it had anything to do with watching guys put on big red gloves and beat the crap out of one another.

If he hadn't been so down about what happened between him and Mireet, he might have cared enough to ask Dean.

He showered and changed, then hesitated going to the Great Hall for breakfast. What if Mireet was there? Did he really want to see her right now?

His stomach grumbled. Reluctantly, he gave in to his hunger and headed downstairs. He sighed as he slowly walked across the common room, remembering his trip back from the Beauxbatons carriage. He had been walking behind a glum-looking Harry Potter and followed him through the portrait hole. He'd been vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione having another argument, with Hermione yelling something about "a last resort." On their way up the stairs, Harry had turned and asked, "Have a good time tonight, Jimmy?"

"I wish," had been his reply.

Harry didn't inquire further. He just gave him a sympathetic smile and went off to his room. That suited O'Bannon fine. He hadn't felt like talking about what happened between him and Mireet at that moment.

He still didn't feel like talking about it.

When he reached the entrance to the Great Hall, he paused. Was Mireet already in there? Would she try to talk to him? Did she want to talk to him? What about the other students? Did they already know Mireet had shot him down? Were they gossiping about it?

His stomach growled again. He didn't feel like starving all day. Maybe he should just grab some food and head back to Gryffindor Tower to eat alone.

Drawing a deep breath, O'Bannon entered the Great Hall. He took a quick glance at the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbatons students sat. A wave of relief went through him when he didn't see Mireet.

He looked over at the Gryffindor table and spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione sitting together, with Angelina, Katie, Alicia and Ginny across from them. There was no sign of Fred, George or Lee.

"Mornin'," he muttered as he took the empty space next to Harry, who responded in kind, as did Ron.

He heard no such greeting from the girls.

Brow furrowed, he looked up.

Ginny, Angelina, Katie and Alicia all shot him the same scathing glare.

"What?"

The girls continued to glare at him.

"Um, is there some kind of problem?"

Anger lines marred Angelina's face as she shook her head. "You can really sit there and ask that question?"

O'Bannon drew his head back, confused. "Huh?"

"Do you think it was easy for her to do?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Merlin's beard, why are boys so bloody thick?"

Several students turned Angelina's way as she pushed herself out of her seat. O'Bannon noticed the expression on her face change from fury to distress, then back to fury, all in the span of a second. Biting her lip, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the Great Hall.

"What's she on about?" Ron asked as he speared a piece of sausage with his fork.

O'Bannon shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me." He turned to the remaining three girls across from him. "Anyone wanna clue me in?"

Both Katie and Alicia sighed and shook their heads in frustration. Ginny slapped a hand down on the table. "Jimmy O'Bannon, you are the biggest pillock at this school."

He snorted and scowled at the girls. "Fine. Whatever."

He grabbed some toast and fruit and stomped out of the Great Hall.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon holed up in his room and ate his breakfast, supplemented by some of the Christmas sweets he hadn't gotten to yet. Then he sat on his bed, staring at the walls, moping over Mireet. When he got sick and tired of being depressed, he decided to do something to get his mind off this whole sucky situation. He grabbed his bookbag and trudged off to the library to do his homework. He still couldn't believe the teachers at Hogwarts had assigned them homework during the holidays. They didn't do that at Salem. There, Christmas break meant you took a break from school work.

But on this day, he was grateful for it. He had to do something before he drove himself crazy dwelling on last night.

The library was deserted. Not even Hermione was in here. That suited him fine. He didn't feel like being around people right now.

He found a small table in the far corner of the library, spread out his books and parchment, and sat down.

Half-an-hour later, he found himself staring at a blank piece of parchment and a couple of still unopened library books. The whole, sorry scene between him and Mireet last night pushed all thoughts of his Charms assignment out of his head. Resigning himself to the fact he wouldn't get a lick of homework done today, he put the books back on their appropriate shelves, stuffed the rest of his things in his bookbag and left the library.

O'Bannon walked through the corridors with his head down. He started wishing he'd asked someone else to the ball. Maybe Katie, since she'd had a brief crush on him. Or Maybe Alicia, or Susan Bones, or one of the giggle twins, Parvati and Lavender. Hell, maybe he should have asked that strange Ravenclaw girl with the eternally dazed look and butterbeer necklace he sometimes saw around school. He doubted any of them would have a hang up over being with him because of some jackass ex-boyfriend.

_Maybe __I __should __port __key __to __France, __find __this __Marc-Andre __douchebag, __and __beat __him __till __I__'__m __bored._

Voices coming from around the next corridor caught his attention.

"I'm sure it was fun for you. I'm just saying back in my day, meaning when I was still alive, our banquets were much more dignified."

That sounded like Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

"When you say 'dignified,' what you're really saying is boring."

O'Bannon froze near the intersection. That voice was unmistakably Katie Bell's.

"I would prefer to be bored than listen to that shrieking they called music from last night."

"Music has changed a great deal since your time, Sir Nic-"

Both Katie and Nearly Headless Nick rounded the corner and stopped when they saw him.

"Good afternoon, Jimmy." The ghost nodded to him.

"Nick," he replied, not taking his eyes off Katie, who stared at him unsmiling. "Um, Katie."

Scowling, she stormed past him.

O'Bannon's face scrunched in annoyance. "What the hell's your problem, Bell?"

Katie stopped, her shoulders slowly rising in a measured breath.

Nearly Headless Nick looked at him, then Katie, then winced. "Err, I think I should depart now."

The ghost floated off, leaving O'Bannon and Katie alone in the corridor. He stepped closer to her. "Hey. If you got a problem with me, out with it."

"You better believe I have a problem with you."

"What the hell did I do to you?"

"You didn't do anything to me."

A perplexed look came over O'Bannon's face. "Huh? Okay, you're not making sense. I didn't do anything to you, but you're pissed at me? What gives?"

Katie snorted and shook her head. "Merlin's beard, you really don't have an inkling what this is all about, do you?"

"You know, I'm having a crappy day as it is. So quit playing games and just tell me what I did to piss you off."

"I told you, you didn't do anything to me."

O'Bannon rolled his eyes. Anger boiled inside him, ready to be unleashed on Katie.

She beat him to the punch. "It's what you did to Mireet that's bothering me."

His neck muscles tightened. "So you heard what happened."

"Yes I did. Me and Ang and Alicia and Ginny."

"Then what's the whole, 'what I did to her'? She was the one who turned me down when I wanted us to get serious."

"And then what did you do? You stormed off. She wanted to talk to you some more, try to explain more why she did what she did. And you just turned your back on her and pouted like a bloody five year old!"

"What, I shoulda just stood there and listened to her give more reasons why she doesn't want to be my girlfriend?"

"You hurt her!" Katie stomped up to him. "Here she was, explaining how some uppity wanker back in France broke her heart, and what did you do? You up and walked off. Do you think it was easy for her to do that? Mireet likes you. She told us so."

"When?"

"This morning, outside the Great Hall. She told us what happened after the ball. And she was crying her bloody eyes out! She hated having to tell you she didn't want to be with you. She wanted you to understand, but when you just walked off . . . you can't imagine how horrible it made her feel. She cried herself to sleep, all because you acted like the most insensitive arse in the world."

He stood frozen. A dark mass grew over his heart and spread through his chest. Images assaulted his mind. Images of Mireet crying. Crying because of him.

_I __never__.__.__. __I __didn__'__t __think__.__.__._

O'Bannon averted his eyes from Katie's fiery glare. He pressed his back against the stone wall and stared at the floor. "I really messed up, didn't I?"

"That's an understatement."

He sighed and looked up at Katie. "Do you think I can fix things with Mireet?"

"Yes. So long as you get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness. I think that's the least you can do considering how you acted."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right."

He sucked down a deep breath. "I think I better go find Mireet."

"Yes, you should."

O'Bannon pushed himself off the wall and walked by Katie without a word. He only got a few steps when she said, "Jimmy."

"Yeah?" He turned around.

Katie's lips tightened for a moment. "You may not believe this since I . . . well, since I had a crush on you a bit ago. But I was rooting for you and Mireet to get together after the ball. I hope she forgives you."

For the first time today, O'Bannon smiled. "Thanks, Katie.

"You're welcome. Now go apologize to Mireet."

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon trekked through the snow to the Beauxbatons carriage, praying the whole way that Mireet would accept his apology. He also mentally kicked himself over and over again for acting like such a jerk. He'd been so wrapped up in how his night had been ruined he never considered another fact.

Mireet's night had also been ruined. By him.

He spotted a couple of French witches who were braving the cold weather to take pictures of the whitened Hogwarts grounds with a boxy old-fashioned camera so common in the Wizarding World.

"Excuse me. Um, could one of you do me a favor and get Mireet Miradeaux for me?"

A brunette of medium-build agreed, though she looked put out by the request.

O'Bannon leaned against a tree, drumming his fingers on his leg. His teeth clenched as anxiety built up inside him. He kept trying to come up with the right words to say.

He was still thinking exactly what to say to Mireet when she came out of the carriage. She froze on the staircase when she saw him. O'Bannon had to force himself to take a breath before speaking.

"Um, hey, Mireet. Can . . . Can I talk to you? Please?"

She continued staring at him in silence. Panic swelled within him. He expected her to go back inside the carriage.

"_Oui_," she muttered.

He winced as she pounded down the steps and strode toward him. She walked past him without a word and kept walking. O'Bannon had to take longer than normal strides to keep up. They didn't stop until they reached a small clump of trees, blocking their view of the Beauxbatons carriage. Mireet folded her arms and looked at him unsmiling.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Um, Mireet. Um, I'm . . . I'm so sorry about last night. I know . . . I know that couldn't have been easy for you. I know you were upset and . . . well, I guess I should have been a little more understanding. It's just . . . I really like you and, well, I know I said I'd never hurt you like that Marc-Andre sh . . . um, guy did. But I did, and I wish I could take it back. I just hope you don't hate me."

"I spent all last night and this morning wondering if you hated me."

"Mireet, I could never hate you."

"That did not seem the case last night when you left."

Her eyes glistened. O'Bannon swallowed back the lump in his throat. "Mireet, please forgive me. Look, I'll get down on my knees and beg for your forgiveness if that's what it takes."

Silence hung between them for several long seconds. O'Bannon's lips tightened. He started lowering himself to the ground.

"No," Mireet finally spoke. "You do not have to beg. I forgive you, Jimmy."

He straightened up, an invisible weight flying off his shoulders. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky. _Thank __you, __God._

"I just want you to understand and respect my decision. I do wish we could . . . I wish things could be different with us."

"I understand," he muttered, wondering if Mireet even heard him.

"I do want us to be friends. Please, Jimmy?"

He sighed to himself. He wanted to be more than friends, and he doubted that feeling would go away any time soon.

But if his only two choices were just being friends with Mireet or having her hate him . . . well, he knew he couldn't bear to live with the latter.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Mireet smiled. Not the beaming smile she'd worn through much of the Yule Ball, but a smile nonetheless.

"_Merci_, Jimmy." She walked up to him and kissed him on both cheeks.

They hugged. O'Bannon closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her body in his arms, wondering if he could ever fully accept Mireet as just a friend.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	31. Hard Lessons

**CHAPTER 31: HARD LESSONS**

* * *

><p>The morning of January 5th brought with it snow flurries. Not that that deterred Jimmy O'Bannon. He still put on his sweats and went out for his daily run. Every step took some effort, with the snow about four or five inches deep. But what the hell? It made his run that much more challenging.<p>

After forty minutes, he trudged up the castle steps, drenched in sweat despite the cold temperature. He couldn't wait to hop into a nice, warm shower before heading down to breakfast. Once he finished eating, he'd have to sit down and do his damn homework. There was less than a week to go before classes resumed, and he had a bunch of essays that couldn't be put off any longer.

O'Bannon scowled as he tramped up the steps toward the Fat Lady's portrait, cursing his Christmas Break homework for the five thousandth time.

_Like we didn't do enough homework during Fall semester._ "Balderdash," he blurted. The portrait swung open and he went inside. _God forbid we should just relax until our next semester star-_

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

O'Bannon stumbled backwards in surprise and did a double-take. Standing in front of him in the common room were Fred and George, Lee, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Dean, Seamus, the Creevey brothers, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Mireet. A large banner floated over them with the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIMMY, each letter exploding over and over again in red and gold sparks. At the end of the banner was an image of O'Bannon in a hockey jersey with the number 16. Very appropriate, since he turned 16 today.

They hurried over to him, hugging him or slapping him on the back.

"Crap, you actually remembered today was my birthday?"

"We had it marked down on the calendar," said Fred.

"Couldn't let this day pass by quietly, now could we?" added George.

O'Bannon smiled, looked up at the banner, then to Dean. "Your work, I take it?"

"Yeah. Though I had a hard time deciding if I should make the letters Gryffindor colors or Bruins colors. Hope you don't mind I went with Gryffindor."

"I don't mind at all. It is our House, after all."

O'Bannon almost laughed at his own statement. Five months ago he desperately wanted to get the hell out of Gryffindor. Now he proudly wore its colors.

"Happy Birthday, Jimmy." Mireet walked over, carrying chocolate cake with vanilla icing on the edges and sixteen burning candles. She put the cake down on a table and kissed both his cheeks. His heart fluttered. Regret took hold.

_If only . . ._

He wondered when, if ever, he'd stop thinking that whenever Mireet was around.

"So how did you get into Gryffindor Tower?" he asked her.

"You have Fred and George to thank for that. It is incredible all the secret passages they know about in this castle."

The twins smiled proudly, with George saying, "Besides, she did make that cake. We had to get her in here somehow."

O'Bannon looked from the cake to Mireet's smiling, beautiful face. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."

An airy feeling spread throughout his body. _Why can't you be my girlfriend?_

He tried pushing the thought aside as his friends urged him to blow out the candles. He didn't even have to think about his wish. Unfortunately, in the Wizarding World, as in the Muggle World, birthday wishes rarely came true.

The cake was absolutely delicious, so delicious he had to have a second slice. O'Bannon was halfway finished eating it when Fred handed him something wrapped in brown paper.

"From all of us, mate."

O'Bannon took it, then shot the redhead a suspicious eye. "This isn't gonna explode or cover me with something really disgusting, is it?"

"Would we do that to you?" Fred looked over at his twin, both wearing innocent expressions.

"In a heartbeat."

Fred glanced at the ceiling in a quick moment of contemplation. "Yes, you're right. We would do that."

"But not today, Jimmy Boy," George said. "Go on, open it."

O'Bannon ripped it open and found his friends had gotten him a red sweatshirt – or jumper in Brit speak. The front had a gold silhouette of a hockey player raising his stick and the words CAPTAIN: HOGWARTS HOCKEY CLUB.

A smile spread across his face as he looked up at the other Gryffindors, plus Mireet. He'd really lucked out in making friends with a great group of people like this.

It sure as hell would make leaving Hogwarts six months from now hard.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon's birthday party seemed to be the last big to-do in Gryffindor Tower. After that, everyone buckled down and concentrated on their homework. Or in Harry Potter's case, homework and trying to figure out what that golden egg had to do with the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which was now little over a month away. The only respite from the mound of schoolwork came courtesy of Fred and George, who unleashed a wave of pranks. Screaming Skulls rocketed through the dormitories, dung bombs exploded in the corridors, and some students turned into canaries or walked around with massive tongues or elephant trunks. For a while, O'Bannon welcomed the comical breaks. But the day before classes resumed, with homework still yet to be done, he and just about every other Gryffindor were ready to chuck Fred and George into the Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor and send them off to Merlin knew where.

A somber atmosphere hung over Hogwarts on the first day of the new semester, or term here in Britain. After all the weeks off, no one seemed anxious to return to class. O'Bannon was no different, since his first class was History of Magic with Professor Binns. But the first day of the new term also meant dealing with something more unpleasant than the world's most boring ghost.

Today was the first day he had to teach the Slytherins about hockey.

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Fred asked as he, George and the other Gryffindor hockey club members exited the common room.

O'Bannon looked over his shoulder. "Because I helped you with your stupid endeavors, now you gotta help me with mine."

"Our pranks are not stupid endeavors."

"They're acts of sheer brilliance," George added.

"Acts of sheer annoyance is more like it," said Angelina.

The twins both scoffed at her.

"Well it wouldn't be quite fair to take on Slytherin if they know nothing about hockey, now would it?" Alicia pointed out.

"Ha!" Seamus barked. "Like the bloody snakes care about playing fair."

"They may not, but we should."

Seamus scowled. "Merlin's beard, you sound like a Hufflepuff."

Katie shook her head. "Gryffindors helping Slytherins. I wonder if it'll ever happen again."

"Maybe it will," O'Bannon responded. "The day a garden gnome jumps out my ass and sings, 'Ol' MacDonald had a Farm.'"

When they exited the castle, they linked up with the non-Gryffindor members of the hockey club; Anthony Goldstein, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, Ernie MacMillan, Miroslav Harkorth and Mireet. The group headed down to the hockey pond, already frozen by the winter weather instead of by magic. Malfoy and a couple dozen students stood along the banks, unsmiling. All of them were from Slytherin House, save two, a tall boy with a goatee and a brutish-looking girl with short brown hair. They wore Durmstrang robes. They also aimed scathing looks at Harkorth, not that it fazed the big Bulgarian.

O'Bannon slowed his pace when he noticed two, familiar figures standing near the Slytherins.

"Oh bloody wonderful." Lee groaned. "It's Snape."

"Yeah, but Professor Burbage is also here," O'Bannon noted. "That should even things out."

He looked at the other members of the hockey club. None of them moved. Many glared at the Slytherins, who glared back.

O'Bannon sighed. "C'mon, gang. Think of it as eating your vegetables. Something you just have to do."

"I rather enjoy vegetables," Goldstein said.

Seamus gave a snorting laugh. "You would, Goldstein."

O'Bannon led them toward the pond, stopping just a few feet from Malfoy, the disgust on his face unmistakable.

Snape cleared his throat. "Professor Dumbledore assigned Professor Burbage and myself to oversee this activity and ensure that no trouble occurs." His gaze was on O'Bannon's group, as though suggesting any trouble would be started by them.

_Dick._

Professor Burbage smiled and stepped forward. "I just wanted to say I'm very pleased to see you can set aside your differences with Slytherin House to show them how to play hockey and make your upcoming game fair. It speaks volumes of your maturity and honor."

O'Bannon smiled back. "Thanks, Professor."

Snape sighed heavily. "Get on with it, Mister O'Bannon."

He narrowed his eyes at Snape for a moment, then walked over to Malfoy and handed him a pile of books. "These are some books on hockey my parents sent over. There's got stuff in there about the rules, history, strategy. It should be helpful after we're done with you guys."

Malfoy eyed him with contempt before looking down at the books in his hands. Some of the other Slytherins gathered around Malfoy, staring the books, and O'Bannon, with disdain.

"Muggle filth," muttered Ares Urquhart.

"Five points from Slytherin," Professor Burbage announced. "I'll not stand for any bigoted comments here."

Urquhart's face turned red with rage. Other Slytherins groaned or sneered at Professor Burbage. Snape narrowed his eyes at the Muggle Studies teacher, then at O'Bannon. He tensed up a bit, knowing the greasy-haired jagoff would look for any excuse to dock points from Gryffindor.

He turned back to Malfoy. "So how about we get started?"

"Before we do, I just want you to know that being taught by a Mu . . ." Malfoy paused, glanced at Professor Burbage, then looked back at O'Bannon. "Being taught by someone like you sickens me."

"The feeling's mutual, pal."

Malfoy scowled. "I'm not your 'pal.' I'll never be your pal."

"Yeah, that really breaks my heart." O'Bannon frowned. _Well this is off to a great start._

He began by showing the Slytherins the charms to transfigure branches into hockey sticks and their shoes into skates. It didn't take them long to get the hang of it. Next he transfigured a rock into a chalkboard and went over the basics of hockey. Each side had three forwards, two defensemen and a goalie. Skaters could be substituted at any time. He talked about face-offs, checking, and icing, where a team shoots a puck across two red lines without another player touching it. In that event, play is stopped and the face-off took place in that team's defensive zone. O'Bannon pointed out that teams could ice the puck when they were short-handed due to a penalty. He then ran down the common penalties. Tripping, hooking, slashing, roughing, high-sticking, charging – leaping into a player after taking two or more strides. He explained that fighting – "with your fists, not wands" – was an accepted part of the game, but would earn you five minutes in the penalty box. Though if there was intent to cause serious injury, you got a game misconduct and went bye-bye for the rest of the game.

"Bloody hell, we've been in classes all day," grumbled a Cro-Magnon-looking Slytherin named Graham Montague. "Enough of the lectures. When do we start skating around and using these sticks?"

"It does help to know the rules of this game before you go out on the ice," O'Bannon replied. "For instance, when are you allowed to ice the puck?"

The Slytherins, and two Durmstrangs, just stared at him in silence.

"What's the definition of boarding?"

Again, no one answered him.

Anger burned inside O'Bannon. He doubted every single Slytherin had forgotten those rules. They probably just didn't want to answer him because he was a Gryffindor, and a Muggle-born to boot.

He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at the "class." "Okay, if that's the way you wanna be, we'll just stand here until someone answers my questions. Just remember, every second you spend with your mouths shut is a second you waste learning about hockey. And since we've got a game in six months and you guys know jack about this sport, you don't have a second to waste. So what's it gonna be?"

O'Bannon rocked back on his heels, arms still folded. The Slytherins remained silent. So did he.

"Five points from Gryffindor."

He swung his head in Snape's direction. "What?"

"It is obvious you are the one wasting time in order for your team to gain an unfair advantage over Slytherin. Now cease your childish behavior and teach them this stupid sport."

Anger lines dug deep into O'Bannon's face. He clenched his fists, wishing he had his hands around Snape's throat.

He turned back to the Slytherins. All of them wore smug expressions. That just pissed him off even more.

"Grab your sticks and let's shoot some pucks," he said in a clipped tone and stepped onto the ice.

"Oi." Angelina skated up to him and tapped his arm. "Don't let them get to you."

He sighed and nodded. Ang was right. No matter how pissed off he was, he had to appear in control.

O'Bannon took a deep breath and concentrated on making his face into a stony mask. His "game face," the one he wore during games so as not to give away his mood to the opposition.

First he had the Slytherins stand in place and shoot at the net. He and the other hockey club members went around and offered advice on how to hold the stick and shoot. A handful of the Slytherins actually took their advice, albeit begrudgingly. Some pretended to listen, but obviously ignored their advice given the poor way they continued shooting. Others just flat out refused to take any advice.

Like Malfoy.

"You're gripping the stick too low," O'Bannon told him. "Put your top hand right on the end of the stick . . . You want the end of the stick no higher than your belly button . . . you're gripping it too tight. You're hitting more of the ice than the puck."

"I don't need advice on how to hold a bloody stick!" Malfoy snapped, then fired the puck at the net. He missed by a good six feet.

O'Bannon snorted and skated away, Barbara Billingsley's famous line from the movie _Airplane! _coming to mind.

"'Chump don't want the help, chump don't get the help,'" he muttered under his breath.

The attitude of the Slytherins did not improve for the remainder of the practice session, or the one they had the next day. Or the day after that. By the fourth day O'Bannon decided he'd rather before forced to listen to Professor Binns drone on about Goblin rebellions for 24 straight hours than spend one more minute teaching these Slytherin asswipes the basics of hockey. Judging by their scowls and grumblings, the rest of the hockey club felt the same way.

_Just gotta get through today and tomorrow, and then the snakes are on their own._

O'Bannon decided to hold scrimmage between his hockey club and the Slytherins, running it at half-speed so he could critique Malfoy's bunch on their tactics and formations.

There was a lot to critique.

"You've got the defensemen playing too far back . . . D-Men, don't just slap the puck away. Control it . . . Stop firing the puck at people! This isn't Quidditch and you're not a Beater . . . You're all bunched up around the net. Keep a couple guys back in case the puck gets loose . . . Malfoy, you're still holding your stick too tight. You have to see how that's affecting where you're shooting the puck."

Malfoy slammed the blade of his stick on the ice. "Shut up! I'm sick of you treating me like an idiot. You don't want to teach us about this stupid Muggle game, you just want to embarrass us. Embarrass me! Well I'm not putting up with it any more!"

Malfoy threw his stick on the ice, seething, his glare locked on O'Bannon.

He returned the glare, then skated over to Malfoy, stopping less than a foot from his ferrety face. "Embarrassing you? I'm trying to show you what this game's all about so you have a fighting chance against us. You're the one who can't put his hatred of Muggle-borns and Gryffindors aside for one second to do something that will actually help you. And believe it or not, I'm not trying to embarrass you. What I'm doing is called coaching, and part of it is pointing out your mistakes so you can fix them. Maybe the captain of your Quidditch team doesn't do that because he doesn't want to upset the golden boy of Slytherin, but that doesn't mean crap to me. So if you and your slithery pals wanna have a chance at beating us, you'll shut your mouth, change your attitude, and do what we tell you."

He spun around and skated away.

"How dare you . . . nobody talks to me that way!" Malfoy raged.

"And that's why you turned out the way you did," O'Bannon replied. "C'mon. Face-off at center ice."

Malfoy stood his ground, still glaring at him. None of the other Slytherins moved.

"Do as he says," Professor Burbage told them. "Or I'll start docking points."

Malfoy shot the Muggle Studies teacher a fiery stare, then bent down and snatched his stick off the ice. The four other Slytherin skaters followed him to center ice. O'Bannon's brow furrowed when he noticed Malfoy skate next to Goyle and say something to him in a low voice. The bigger Slytherin looked at O'Bannon, looked to Malfoy, and nodded.

Katie Bell and Millicent Bulstrode squared off at center ice, Alicia between them, puck in hand. O'Bannon positioned himself about fifteen feet to the right of Katie.

Goyle skated up and stood across from him, an evil grin on his ape-like face.

O'Bannon tensed. He'd played hockey long enough to sense when somebody wanted to drop the gloves and go.

_Friggin' coward, _he thought of Malfoy. Instead of defending his own honor, the little prick sent someone else to do it for him. O'Bannon didn't like people who didn't fight their own battles.

He kept his eyes on Goyle. It didn't matter to him that the Slytherin had about three inches and sixty or seventy pounds over him. If he wanted a fight he'd get a fight.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Alicia drop the puck. Katie and Millicent slapped it with their sticks. O'Bannon didn't see who won the face-off. He was too busy trying to shake off his gloves.

That's when Goyle raised his stick over his head.

_Oh crap!_

Goyle smiled wide and swung down.

"_Expelliarmus!" _

A bolt shot from Professor Burbage's wand. It struck Goyle's stick and knocked it from his grip. He stared in shock at his empty hands.

O'Bannon let out a sigh of relief. Goyle looked back at him, still wearing that stunned expression. O'Bannon smirked.

Goyle slugged him.

Pain exploded across O'Bannon's face. A jolt went through his ass when he hit the ice. Stars appeared before his eyes.

Through the fog of pain he heard a commotion. He blinked his eyes. Millicent had Katie in a headlock. Angelina wrestled Boyana Petrova, the brutish-looking girl from Durmstrang. Fred jumped on Montague's back and took him down to the ice.

Malfoy, no surprise, stayed as far away from the fighting as possible.

Spells streaked through the air. The combatants were blown away from each other, landing hard on the ice.

"Enough!" Professor Burbage stomped up to the edge of the pond, her wand still pointed at them. "All of you, that's enough! This is unacceptable behavior for Hogwarts students."

"Fighting is allowed in hockey games, Professor," Fred said.

"This is not a game. This is a practice. It's a time for learning and teaching, not for trying to kill one another."

Burbage's shoulders rose and fell with an angry breath. "Miss Bulstrode. Miss Bell. Mister Weasley. Mister Montague. Miss Johnson. Ten points each and a night's detention. Mister Goyle, twenty points, since you tried to use your stick to attack Mister O'Bannon. Miss Petrova, rest assured I shall make mention of your deplorable behavior to Headmaster Karkaroff."

"I must also take ten points from Mister O'Bannon," Snape said.

"What?" O'Bannon blurted.

"You're antagonistic attitude toward Mister Malfoy was obviously the root cause of this melee."

O'Bannon narrowed his eyes. Just when he thought he couldn't hate Snape any more.

The bastard Potions teacher continued, "I think it would be wise to end any further hockey lessons between Mister O'Bannon's club and the Slytherins, lest we see a repeat of this incident."

"I must agree with you, Professor Snape." Professor Burbage continued to stare at everyone on the ice with a disgusted expression. "It's obvious we cannot trust anyone here to act in a civil manner, even for a couple of hours."

Burbage snapped her right hand out. "All of you. Back to the castle. Now."

Both groups trudged off the ice, with Snape and Burbage walking between them to make sure no more fights broke out.

"Jimmy, are you all right?" Mireet appeared next to him, concern on her face.

He flexed his jaw, wincing. It was sore, but didn't feel broken. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

Mireet gave an unlady-like snort and shook her head. She said something in French. While he may not know the exact words, he guessed from the harsh tone it was something unkind toward the Slytherins.

When he got back to Gryffindor Tower, O'Bannon showered, then checked himself in the mirror. A huge red welt dominated his left cheek where Goyle had hit him.

_Dude's got a hell of a right hook._

He didn't feel the injury worth a trip to the Hospital Wing. Instead he conjured an icebag, pressed it against his cheek, and headed down to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Bloody Hell," Ron said as O'Bannon took a seat at the Gryffindor table. "What happened to you?"

"Goyle's fist." He then told him about the scuffle between the club and the Slytherins.

"I knew it was mental to have you teach the bloody snakes about _hoe-key_," Ron spoke with a mouthful of chicken. "Like they'd ever take instruction from a Gryffindor and, no offense, a Muggle-born."

"Yeah, not the greatest idea I ever had. Oh well, Malfoy and his toerags are on their own now." O'Bannon furrowed his brow. _Did I really just say "toerags?" _"Snape and Professor Burbage nixed any more lessons with the Slytherins. Fine by me. Let them try to figure this game out on their own."

"You're absolutely right." Angelina nodded from across the table. "We need to put this whole unpleasant week out of our heads. We have concerns of our own."

"Like what?"

Angelina gaped at him. "'Like what'? Like the fact that we have to finish putting together our own team."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	32. Training Camp

**CHAPTER 32: TRAINING CAMP**

* * *

><p>Since they didn't have to give hockey lessons to the Slytherins on Friday, O'Bannon got together with Dean Thomas after classes to put together a flier advertising the start of their training camp Monday. Once again, he marveled at the art skills of the younger Gryffindor. Dean had drawn a hockey player in a red uniform rearing back with his stick and firing the puck past the green and silver-clad goalie, who hung his head in a dejected manner.<p>

O'Bannon and the other hockey club members plastered the fliers all over the school. He spent the entire weekend anxious for Monday to get here, wanting to get out on the ice and start putting together a real team.

_Hopefully we'll have enough people out to fill a 20-player roster. _

He spent quite a bit of time at his desk, drawing up a list of things to cover in practice and when to cover them. Obviously they had to start with the basics; stick-handling, shooting the puck, passing. Conditioning would be important. That should probably take up the first twenty to thirty minutes of practice. Skill meant nothing if you got exhausted in a hurry.

Goalie training concerned him the most. He'd been a forward since he was little. He could show people how to attack the net. He could even handle lessons on defense, since he strived to be a capable two-way player like Bobby Orr had been. But goaltender? O'Bannon wasn't familiar with all the intricacies that went along with the position.

He'd just have to go the simplistic route. _"Here's a glove, here's a stick, here are your pads, now do whatever you have to to keep the puck from going in the net._

When you got right down to it, what more did you need to tell a goalie?

His training camp preparations got interrupted Saturday afternoon when Espo flew into his room with two letters from back in the US. One came from his parents, the other from Rosa, Jared and Artimus. Mom and Dad were glad he had a fun time at the Yule Ball, and said that Mireet was a very pretty girl – he had included a picture of him and Mireet in his last letter home. He did, however, leave out the unpleasant details of what happened after the ball.

He had been more candid with his best friends. When he read their letter, Rosa, as expected, chastised him for his behavior when Mireet said she did not want to get serious.

_I know that had to have been hard to take, but from what you wrote I can see where this Mireet was coming from. It could not have been easy for her, and stomping off like a six year old that doesn't get their way is not how you handle something like that._

O'Bannon did get more sympathy from Jared.

_Dude, that sucks. That Mireet looks hot! But hey, there are plenty of other witches out there._

Next he read Artimus' reply.

_I'm sorry Mireet wouldn't be your girlfriend. I hope you've gotten over it._

He frowned. _No, Art, I don't think I have._

When Monday afternoon rolled around, O'Bannon made his way to the hockey pond with Fred and George and Lee in tow. Nervousness tempered his excitement. How many students would show up? Would they respond to his instructions?

Did he have what it took to captain an actual team?

When the hockey pond came into view, O'Bannon halted.

"Blimey, would you look at that," Lee muttered.

O'Bannon was looking at that, and gaping at it, too. Well over a hundred students crowded the frozen pond.

_Team, hell. We've got enough here for a whole damn league._

He finally forced himself to move. When he neared the banks, he noticed Anthony Goldstein and Susan Bones approaching him.

"Jimmy. Can you believe this?" Susan looked from him to the crowd of students, then back to him. "Look at all of them. It's amazing."

O'Bannon slowly shook his head. "I don't believe it. I didn't think we'd get this many kids out here."

"Gryffindor's not the only house that has issues with Slytherin," Goldstein said. "Plenty of us in Ravenclaw can't stand them, and would like to take them down a peg."

"That goes double for us Hufflepuffs," Susan added.

O'Bannon nodded and looked at the mob of students. A smile spread across his face. It seemed the Slytherins' pureblood fanaticism and superior attitude and all-around unpleasantness was about to bite them in the ass.

"They're right, Jimmy."

He looked past Goldstein and Susan and saw, to his surprise, Michael Corner and Terry Boot walking toward him.

"You guys? You wanna try out for this team?"

The two Ravenclaws nodded.

"I know we tried to take the mickey out of you before," Boot said. "But lots of folks at Hogwarts can't stand Slytherin. Malfoy especially."

Corner nodded. "That wanker always acts like he's better than everyone because he comes from a very old and wealthy pureblood family."

"We want to help you put that walking ball of puss in his place." Boot stuck out his hand. So did Corner.

O'Bannon shook their hands. "Welcome aboard."

As they started toward the pond, O'Bannon again shook his head at the sight of so many potential hockey players. "I still can't believe we've got this many kids out here."

"We told you," Goldstein said. "Lots of people at Hogwarts can't hack Slytherin."

"Plus Professor Burbage offered extra credit in Muggle Studies for anyone who came out for hockey," Boot explained.

"It's also a rather history making event," Susan noted. "The first ever Muggle game played at Hogwarts. It will likely show up in the next revised edition of _Hogwarts: A History."_

"Mm-hmm." O'Bannon slowed his pace, mulling over what he had just heard. The comments from Terry Boot and Susan Bones concerned him the most. How many of these kids came out here just for a grade, or to have their name appear in _Hogwarts: A History?_ How deep would their commitment be to beat Slytherin?

He scanned the crowd again. How many students were here? A hundred and twenty? A hundred and thirty? Could he and the core members of the hockey club adequately train so many students?

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking.

_I know how I can make this work._

When O'Bannon reached the edge of the pond, he called for everyone's attention, then used a Summoning Charm to get some parchment, quills and ink bottles. He had everyone write down their name, grade level and house – or school for those from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. That process took nearly a half-hour. When he got the parchment back, it had 156 names written down, including his and the core members. He rolled it up, stuffed it in his pocket, and looked at the crowd.

"First off, I wanna thank everyone for coming out here to try out for our hockey team. Honestly, I'm really glad to see so many witches and wizards who have a real interest in playing a Muggle game. I'm also glad there are so many of you here who wanna kick Slytherin's ass when we play them in June."

That earned him several cheers – including a rather loud one from Ron Weasley – and some chuckles.

"So, who's ready to learn all about the wonderful world of hockey?"

More enthusiastic cheers went up.

"Good. Now everyone, follow me. We're gonna go on a run. Thirty minutes."

A murmur of disbelief went through the recruits.

"I thought you had to skate in _hoe-key_," said Ron. "Not run."

"You gotta be fit to play this game." O'Bannon paused. "Um, I mean fit as in the American definition of fit. You know, be in shape."

He drew a breath. "Now let's go."

O'Bannon started off at a medium jog, followed by the core members. He checked over his shoulder. Many of the recruits had begun to jog. The rest looked around at each other, as though wondering why he wanted them to run.

"You wanna be on the team?" he shouted. "Run!"

They did, though a bit reluctantly, he thought.

He led the group along the stream that led to the Quidditch pitch. They circled it, then crossed one of the wooden bridges nearby. He led them around the edges of the Forbidden Forest, past Hagrid's hut, along the lake, around the castle, and around the greenhouses. Every so often he'd look back. The Quidditch players in the group kept up, as he expected. They already had good leg strength and endurance from having to put their brooms through all sorts of tight twists and turns in matches, sometimes for hours. Some of the recruits also held their own well. Others struggled to stay with the pack. More than a few staggered off to the side and bent over, sucking in air. One boy, who couldn't have been older than 12, puked.

They finished their run back at the hockey pond. O'Bannon was sweating and breathing heavily, his legs feeling tight. Nothing he wasn't used to. He couldn't say the same about many of the recruits. About two dozen plunked themselves on the ground, breathing hard, their faces soaked with sweat.

"Get some water in you! Keep hydrated!"

The witches and wizards held their wands near their faces and cast Aguamenti Charms. Streams of water shot into their mouths.

O'Bannon waited five minutes, then shouted. "Twenty push-ups!" He immediately dropped to the ground and counted each push-up he did. When he completed his twenty he sprang back to his feet. Several other students, mainly the Quidditch players, also stood up. The rest looked ready to collapse as they groaned, arms shaking.

"C'mon! You can't do twenty push-ups?"

A girl with reddish-blonde hair looked up at him, strain blazing on her sweaty face. "You just had us run all over the bloody school," she complained breathlessly. "Are you trying to kill us?"

"You wanna be part of this team or not? Twenty push-ups. Finish it off."

The girl huffed, then slowly pushed herself to her feet. "This is stupid. I'm not doing this."

O'Bannon shrugged. "Then don't. Leave."

"Fine, I will." She spun on her heel and stomped off. "I've got my extra credit for Muggle Studies anyway."

"C'mon, Marietta," Boot shouted after her. "You only had nineteen more push-ups to go."

"Sod off, Boot!"

O'Bannon folded his arms and watched this Marietta head back to the castle.

_That's one._

The conditioning went on. Sit-ups, jumping jacks, more push-ups, jump rope, shadow boxing, even more push-ups. By the end of their two-hour training session the recruits were worn out. The core members were worn out. Hell, he was worn out. Not that he could show.

"Okay, that's enough for today. You may not think all this has anything to do with hockey, but trust me, six months from now when you're going full bore out on the ice against Slytherin, you're gonna thank me for it. I'll see you all tomorrow."

The recruits, and many of the core members, staggered off. A few of them looked like they didn't have the strength to make it back to the castle.

"Bloody hell." Katie Bell came up to him, her brown haired matted with sweat. "And I thought Oliver Wood was a taskmaster."

"Yeah," said Fred. "I'm ready to fall into bed. That was exhausting."

O'Bannon gave him a wry grin. "Fred. I'm just getting' warmed up."

**XXXXX**

The next day O'Bannon placed a charm on the parchment with the names of all the kids who'd come out to training camp that would automatically remove them from the list if they quit.

Twenty-one names vanished before he set off for the hockey pond. One hundred thirty-five left. He wondered if he could trim that number even further.

For day two of training camp, he and the core members showed the recruits the charms to transfigure their shoes into skates and twigs into hockey sticks. It took about a half-an-hour to make sure everyone could do the charms correctly. Next came the Balancing Charm for the skates, the only bit of magic allowed in the hockey game. That didn't take as long, since most students at Hogwarts learned that charm in Second Year.

"Okay. Transfigure your shoes back to normal, grab your sticks . . . and run!"

O'Bannon led them on another 30 minute run, followed by more push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, jump rope and shadow boxing. At the end of the session, the recruits trudged back to the castle.

Except one, a tall athletic boy with brown hair and angular features.

"You need to start teaching us how to actually play this hockey game, O'Bannon. All this running and jumping won't help us beat those Slytherins."

He stared at the boy in silence for a few moments. "What's your name?"

"Cormac McLaggen."

"Uh-huh. Well, Cormac, when you have your own team, you can run it your way. But this is my team, and I'll run it my way."

McLaggen's face turned red. He spun around and marched back to the castle, muttering a stream of curses, many of them about O'Bannon.

Not that he cared.

Day three of training camp. Ten more names came off the list. McLaggen's, unfortunately, was not one of them.

One hundred twenty-five left.

He finally let the recruits get on the ice, taking them through a 20 minute light skate, just to get the feel of it. He noticed relieved looks on many of their faces. They probably thought that they would finally have an easy day.

_Like hell._

He put everyone through line drills, having them sprint from blue line to blue line at full speed. Next he conjured a line of cones and had everyone weave through them. Then he lined up three cones for a Z-drill, where the skater went full speed at the first cone, made a hard, sharp cut to sprint to the next cone, and did the same for the third and final cone. Then he had everyone place a Weight Charm on their sticks, hold them over their heads, and skate around the pond three times.

More line drills, followed by push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, jump rope and shadow boxing.

Day four of training camp. Thirteen more names disappeared from the list. One hundred twelve left.

Still too many.

O'Bannon began their session with these words. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to your day in Hell!"

"Oh, this ought to be bloody good," George muttered from nearby.

They started off with a run, with Weight Charms on their sticks. O'Bannon took them into the Quidditch pitch and had them run up and down the stands for each of the four houses . . . twice! Then they ran around the lake before returning to the hockey pond, still with Weight Charms on their sticks. After a very, very short break, they did push-ups, sit-ups, more push-ups, jumping jacks, even more push-ups, shadow boxing, still more push-ups. Then it was onto the ice for line drills, Z-drills, weaving around lines of cones, skating around the pond with their Weight Charmed sticks over their heads.

Mercifully, he gave them a break.

For three minutes.

Push-ups, sit-ups, push-ups, jumping jacks, push-ups, jump rope, push-ups, shadow boxing. The sun had almost set by the time they finished. Everyone dragged themselves back to the castle. O'Bannon, himself exhausted, heard a fair number of recruits mutter all manner of foul words about him.

Again, not that he cared.

"Um, Jimmy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

Dean's mouth tightened. He looked unsure. "Um, look, mate. I know this is your team and all, but are we ever gonna start doing actual hockey stuff? You know, like shooting and passing and all that?"

"You'll see tomorrow."

Day five of training camp. O'Bannon's eyes widened when he saw the newly shortened list.

Fifty-three more names were gone. Only fifty-nine remained.

"Here he comes," Fred said when O'Bannon met him in the common room. "The human Cruciatus Curse."

He just smiled and headed down to the hockey pond. When he arrived, he stood before the recruits and core members.

"Well, as you can see, our numbers have thinned out since Monday. I guess some people couldn't take all the conditioning that goes into being a successful hockey player, the kind of player that's gonna beat Slytherin. Well, I can tell you this. The conditioning part of training camp _will not end_. Not until the day before we play Slytherin, in June. So now you have to ask yourselves. Do you want to put up with all that for a chance to beat Malfoy and the rest of those jagoffs who walk around like they own this school, or do you wanna quit and watch from the stands?"

No one in the crowd spoke. Students swung their heads left and right, as though trying to see what the others might be thinking.

One boy dropped his stick and left the ice. Then another. Another. Two more girls followed. Then another boy.

Five more names off the list. Fifty-four remained, including of all people, Cormac McLaggen. Even though he came off as an a-hole, O'Bannon had to give the guy some credit.

"Well, I guess this is it. Congratulations, you all survived the first week of training camp. Give yourselves a hand."

No one did, until Fred and George clapped and whooped it up. Applause went up from the recruits and the other core members.

"Now I know a lot of you have been cursing me out all this week for everything I put you through. Hell, if I were in your shoes, I'd be cursing me out, too."

That earned a few chuckles.

O'Bannon continued. "But there was a reason for running you guys into the ground. Yes, it was to get you in shape for hockey. Endurance is just as important as skill. You can't be start sucking wind after twenty seconds on the ice. You have got to be in shape for this game. If you're on a top line, or part of a top defensive pairing, you could be on the ice for a total of twenty minutes or more during a sixty minute game. Twenty minutes of skating full speed. When that third period comes along, I want the Slytherins to be sucking wind, not us."

He paused for a moment. "My second reason for all the running and calisthenics and line drills was about mental toughness. Being physically strong isn't enough for this game. You need to be mentally strong. When it's the third period, and your legs are on fire and your energy is dropping, that's when you need to dig deep and find that spirit to push through, ignore the pain, ignore the fatigue, and get the job done. And all of you proved to me that you can do that. You showed me that you want to be on this team and beat Slytherin bad, so bad you were willing to put up with every exercise and drill I threw at you. The others, they just wanted some extra credit or their name in a damn history book. They didn't want this. They didn't want to put in the work, they didn't want to sacrifice, they didn't want to do what had to be done to build a team that is going to beat Slytherin."

Many of the recruits, and a few of the core members, smiled and nodded.

"Now," O'Bannon went on. "Just to show you that I'm not a complete sadist, I'm giving you guys the rest of the day off."

A loud cheer went up from the students.

"Enjoy your weekend. Come Monday, you start learning how to play hockey."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	33. Skeeter's Sting

**CHAPTER 33: SKEETER'S STING**

* * *

><p>With the first brutal week of training camp behind them, and only the really dedicated kids around, O'Bannon got down to the task of teaching them hockey. He spent several days on the basics; rules, stick handling, and shooting and passing drills. In another week or two, he hoped to start running them through tactics, formations, maybe even some simulated games.<p>

Angelina proved a great help, translating some of the aspects of hockey into Quidditch terms for purebloods struggling to learn the Muggle sport. Also aiding him, unbelievably enough, were Fred and George. Despite their reputation as pranksters, they proved patient and entertaining instructors, which served them well with the younger wizards and witches.

O'Bannon also continued their conditioning sessions, though they were nowhere near as hellish as the ones he put them through at the start of training camp. Of course, that had been done as more of a weeding out process than to get kids in shape.

Two weeks before the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, another Hogsmeade weekend had been scheduled. After their usual stops at Honeydukes and Zonko's, O'Bannon, the twins, Lee, Angelina, Alicia, Katie and Mireet all sat in the Three Broomsticks, enjoying butterbeers and sandwiches. They were listening to Katie's worries that she'd done horrible on her last Potions test when a chubby blond boy walked up to their table.

"Excuse me. You're that Yank, O'Bannon, right?"

"Yeah."

"Orestis Delta, Hufflepuff House. Just wanted to tell you I'm rather looking forward to this _hoe-key _game of yours. Professor Burbage has been going on about it in Muggle Studies class. I must admit, I'm anxious to see if it's really like Quidditch on ice, like she says."

"Thanks, man." O'Bannon nodded to him. "Appreciate it."

"You're welcome. Just give it to those Slytherins good. My house can't stand them, either."

Orestis smiled and walked away.

"Wow," said Katie. "People are really getting interested in our game. The other day a couple kids in my Herbology class thought it would be interesting to see how Muggles play games without magic. And they want to see Slytherin get beat, too."

O'Bannon took a swig of butterbeer. "Well, I had a couple of Muggle-borns come up to me in the corridors this week thanking me for promoting Muggle culture. They said more of that needs to be done here."

"That might be a good idea," noted Alicia. "After all, one of the reasons for the Big War was because You-Know-Who hated Muggles and Muggle-borns. If giving people more insight into the Muggle World can prevent another war, I'm for it."

"Here, here!" Lee raised his bottle of butterbeer.

Fred slapped O'Bannon on the shoulder. "How about that, Jimmy Boy? Hockey, the key to ever-lasting peace. Who would have thought it?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Unfortunately, not everyone is as enthused about our hockey game." Mireet frowned briefly.

"Slytherins don't count," said Angelina.

"It is not only Slytherins. Some of the Beauxbatons students have told me hockey is taking attention away from the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"That's rubbish." George gave a dismissive wave.

"I have also overheard some of the Ravenclaw students say the same thing," Mireet told them.

Alicia sighed. "I must admit, there are a couple of Gryffindors who said the same to me."

O'Bannon's shoulders sagged. He wouldn't have a problem if those kids had said hockey wasn't "their bag," as the Brits say. But it sounded like they didn't even want to give the sport a chance.

He drew a breath, trying to shake off his disappointment. "C'mon, gang. Don't let it get you down. Not everyone is going to become a convert to the greatness that is hockey."

"Yeah, Jimmy's right," said Fred. "Besides, the people who don't like hockey obviously have no taste."

That earned a few chuckles around the table.

After O'Bannon had eaten his sandwich and drained his butterbeer, he excused himself to go to the loo . . . er, bathroom.

_I guess it was only a matter of time before I picked up on some of their phrases._

When he finished in there and exited the bathroom, he turned to head back to his table and nearly ran into a witch with rigid golden curls framing a heavy-jawed face, gaudy bright green robes and long nails painted blood red.

"Whoa! Sorry. Excuse me." He moved past her.

"American," she blurted.

O'Bannon turned back to her. "Um, yeah."

"A-ha! You must be the one the students are talking about. The one who's organizing that Muggle game at Hogwarts. _Howl-ki, _is it?"

"Hockey. Yeah, that's me. Jimmy O'Bannon." He stuck out his hand.

"Rita Skeeter." She shook it.

Concern niggled the back of his mind. Rita Skeeter. He knew the name. She was the _Daily Prophet _reporter who wrote that hit piece on Hagrid a couple of weeks ago, calling the Care of Magical Creatures teacher "brutal" and accusing him of terrorizing and maiming his students. Granted, Hagrid did bring in some pretty dangerous creatures. But the man himself was very nice, and O'Bannon never felt threatened by him. Hagrid showed that just having giant blood did not automatically make you a vicious monster.

A fact this Skeeter woman obviously missed.

"That's nice." He released her hand and started to walk away.

"Wait! I'd like to interview you."

He turned around. "About what?"

"Why your howl . . . hoe . . . that Muggle game of yours. It's the first time a Muggle sport has ever been played at Hogwarts. My readers will be very interested in that."

O'Bannon began to turn his back on Skeeter, but stopped. _This could be your chance to share a bit about Muggle culture with a lot of wizards and witches._

_But this is the same witch who ripped poor Hagrid, for no good reason._

He continued staring at Skeeter in silence while he mentally debated himself. Part of him wanted to tell the reporter to go piss up a rope. Another part, though, felt he'd be doing a disservice to all Muggle-borns by not taking this chance to give more of the Wizarding World an appreciation of Muggle culture.

But should he do that with someone like Rita Skeeter?

_Just watch what you say. Keep your answers short and simple and she won't be able to nail you._

"Sure."

"Splendid." Skeeter smiled wide and guided him over to a table in the corner. She took out a quill and some parchment and started off the interview by asking him some background information; where he lived, his age, where he went to school in The States, why he came to Hogwarts, what his parents did for a living – Mom worked for a real estate appraisal company and Dad was a city engineer. Next she had him explain the basics of hockey, which again, he related to Quidditch.

"And how did you get so many non-Muggle-born wizards and witches involved in this sport?" she asked.

"I was just out shooting pucks one day, and two of my friends, Fred and George Weasley, walked by and asked what I was doing. I told 'em, and they wanted to try it for themselves. Next thing you know, a lot of other kids at Hogwarts thought it'd be cool to try."

"And you're going to have an actual hockey match soon?"

"Yeah. In June, before the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"And who will be the teams involved?"

"It's me and my friends on one side, and a bunch of Slytherins on the other."

Skeeter scribbled on her parchment. "Why did you feel the need to have a Muggle sport be played at a magical school?"

"Well, most pureblood wizards and witches don't have a lot of exposure to the Muggle World. A lot of them probably have misconceptions about it, probably wonder how Muggles can do stuff without magic. Hopefully by showing them a Muggle sport, it'll give them some appreciation of Muggle culture. Who knows? Maybe it'll make them curious to find out more about the Muggle World."

"Oh wonderful. Simply wonderful. I believe I have enough." She stuffed the parchment and quill into a crocodile-skin handbag. "Thank you so much for your time. This will make for a most fascinating article."

"Cool." O'Bannon leaned back in his chair. _That wasn't so bad._

After Skeeter's photographer got a picture of him, he returned to the table with his friends and told them about the interview. Lee, Katie and Mireet thought it was awesome. Fred and George, however, looked unhappy.

"Not a good idea there, Jimmy Boy," said Fred.

"Definitely not a good idea," George added.

"That Skeeter woman's a lying hag. You should have saw what she wrote about our dad after the Quidditch World Cup. Said he was an embarrassment to the Ministry of Magic."

"And look what she said about Hagrid," Alicia noted. "True, there is a bit of risk taking his class."

"A bit?" Lee's eyes bugged out. "Have you heard the stories from some of the Fourth Years about those Blast-Ended Skrewts?"

"Point is . . ." Alicia shot Lee a brief scowl before continuing. "Hagrid himself is very nice. I can't remember ever seeing him angry."

"Right." Fred pointed and nodded at Alicia. "And look at all the rubbish Skeeter said about Hagrid anyway."

"Look, don't worry." O'Bannon held up his hands in a calming manner. "I was real careful how I answered her. There's no way she can twist anything I said."

"I hope you're right, Jimmy Boy," George said.

O'Bannon tried to shrug off his friend's concern. But a tiny, paranoid voice whispered in the back of his head. _What if you're wrong?_

He brushed it aside. He'd had nothing to do with the attack at the Quidditch World Cup, he wasn't a Ministry of Magic official, and he didn't have a trace of giant blood in him.

What possible reason could Rita Skeeter have for doing a hit piece on him?

**XXXXX**

The Wednesday following his interview, O'Bannon sat in the Great Hall for breakfast when dozens of owls swooped overhead, delivering the morning mail. He received a letter from Rosa, Jared and Artimus back at Salem. The Blazenrowe hockey team got its first win of the season, 6-5 over Jingosocke Hall, with Jared scoring two goals. Artimus had actually gone on a date – set up by Rosa – with a Fifth Year girl. Unfortunately, it hadn't gone well. Still, O'Bannon saw it as progress for his friend, who rarely had any luck with women.

As for Rosa, she simply said everything between her and Gregory Lancemore was "going fine."

He easily read between the lines. Rosa was usually very exuberant when she talked or wrote about her boyfriends. The fact she described things between her and Gregory as "going fine" indicated trouble in paradise. Not that this surprised him. Gregory had never had a relationship longer than a few months.

Then again, neither had Rosa.

"Jimmy. Hey, Jimmy." Dean headed over to him, waving a copy of _The Daily Prophet _in his hand. "Your interview's in the _Prophet. _Page Six."

"Cool. Let's see." He took the newspaper from Dean and opened it to the appropriate page. Several other Gryffindors gathered around him. While some appeared exited, he noticed Fred, George, Ron and Harry all wore masks of worry.

"Go on, Jimmy. Read it out loud," urged Seamus.

O'Bannon waited as he saw Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot and Mireet coming over from the Ravenclaw table, while Ernie MacMillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones joined them from the Hufflepuff table, along with Harkorth from the Slytherin table. When all had gathered around him, he started reading.

"'Muggle Sports at Hogwarts: History-Making or Pure Folly?'"

O'Bannon furrowed his brow at the headline. _Pure folly?_ What was that about?

He hesitated a moment before moving on to the article.

_As if one history-making event at Hogwarts wasn't enough this year, now the renown, yet sometimes trouble-plagued, school will have a second event of note. Controversial Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has given his approval for a Muggle sport to be played at the school for the very first time. The sport is called holekay._

"_Hockey_, dammit," O'Bannon grumbled, then continued reading.

_As for how this whole matter came about, that is the doing of a Muggle-born American exchange student, 16 year old Timmy O'Bannon from Boston, New Jersey._

"Jimmy! _Jimmy _O'Bannon. And Boston's in Massachusetts, not New Jersey, thank God. Jeez, not only can't she get my name right, she doesn't even know how to read a friggin' map."

"Just keep reading," demanded Seamus.

O'Bannon groaned and went on.

_O'Bannon, who attends the Salem Witches Institute in The States, claims his only reason for bringing hockey to Hogwarts is to provide the Wizarding World with a better understanding of the Muggle World. But his true intentions are much less selfless and noble._

Concern bubbled within him as he continued.

_It is a fact that Americans always seek to be the center of attention. As the Tri-Wizard Tournament has representatives from Britain, France and Bulgaria, O'Bannon the American would have no chance to be in the spotlight. Therefore, he had to devise a plan to take attention away from the tournament and put it on himself. What better way than by staging something that has never happened at Hogwarts during its one thousand years of existence?_

Anger lines dug into O'Bannon's face. He gripped the newspaper tighter and kept reading.

_Initially, O'Bannon's idea was met with resistance. But he achieved his plans by his underhanded, and sometimes bullying tactics._

"_I wanted no part of this," said Draco Malfoy of Slytherin House, who is one of the most gifted students in his Fourth Year Class._

Snorts and snickers went up from some of the students around O'Bannon, the loudest from Ron Weasley.

"_I was minding my own business during supper one night, when O'Bannon jumped up on the Slytherin table and shouted the most vile insults about not just me and my house, but my family. The Malfoys have a proud history in England. I couldn't let this go unchallenged. Now my housemates and I are forced to play a game we know nothing about."_

_That is, perhaps, the most unfair aspect of all this. O'Bannon is a gifted athlete and an expert on holekay, and he will impart his knowledge and experience of this sport on his friends. What chance will the Slytherins have?_

_Then again, O'Bannon may find it difficult to hold his team together, given his torturous methods of practice._

"_That crazy Yank's made us run all around the grounds, for hours at a time, without any rest. And if we complain, he'll use Stinging Jinxes on us."_

_That testimonial comes from Alfred Hazelwood, a Fourth Year Ravenclaw who was subjected to O'Bannon's brutal practices during his brief period with the team. Other Hogwarts students also provided this reporter with horrifying tales of being exercised to the point of collapse, with O'Bannon never giving them so much as a second's break._

_But what_ _does O'Bannon care about the welfare of his fellow students when he has his own radical Muggle-born agenda to push?_

"_I'm going to make sure the Wizarding World appreciates what my world (meaning the Muggle World) has to offer," he said. "Whether they like it or not."_

O'Bannon didn't move. He clenched the newspaper so tight his fists shook. His eyes narrowed, trying to make this stupid rag burst into flames.

He took slow, angry breaths for nearly a minute. When he spoke, his words came out low and ominous.

"I . . . never . . . said . . . any of this. This is bullcrap." He slammed a fist on the table. "This is bullcrap!"

Nobody around him said anything. A few of them made sure they looked in any direction but his.

"Um, Jimmy." Hermione broke the silence. "Considering what Rita Skeeter said about Hagrid in that article, you should have known it wouldn't be wise to talk to her."

He slowly turned to Hermione, who gave him a look that said, "You ought to have known better." Lee and Alicia swallowed and backed up. Harry Potter turned his gaze to something on the floor.

"Gee, thanks, Hermione. How about you get a time turner and go back to last Saturday, and tell me that before I run into Rita Skeeter. You know, when it would actually do me some friggin' good!"

He slammed _The Daily Prophet _down on the table and stomped out of the Great Hall.

No one dared follow him.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon was mega-pissed off the rest of the day. Everyone gave him a wide berth, reminiscent of several months ago after he nearly rammed Bernard Arnfelt through a brick wall. He ate lunch in his dorm room, writing a letter to the editors of the _Prophet_ and demanding a retraction to Skeeter's article, using some very colorful language to make his point. Minutes after he sent Espo on his way with the letter, he wondered if it would do any good. Skeeter, it seemed, had been writing crap like this for a long time, and hadn't been fired for it_._

That made him beyond pissed off.

His dark mood continued at training camp, where he spent more time yelling at the players than teaching them hockey.

"Start passing better . . . Keep the puck under control . . . You're shooting too damn high! Again!"

All in all, it had been their worst practice so far. O'Bannon sensed everyone was on edge because of his mood. But he was so pissed off he didn't care.

When he called an end to practice, everyone headed up to the castle as fast as possible. O'Bannon sat on a log near the pond, untied his skates, and just sat there, boiling.

"You are still upset at that story."

He looked up and saw Mireet standing in front of him.

"Gee, what makes you say that?"

Her eyes narrowed at him. O'Bannon sighed and mentally kicked himself. "Sorry."

Mireet sat beside him on the log. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat.

"I understand your anger. All of us do. But taking it out on the team will not change one word in that horrible woman's story."

O'Bannon slumped forward, hanging his head. "I know. It's just . . ."

"Just what?"

"It's just that . . ." He sat up straighter and looked at her. "You know how some wizards and witches look at the Muggle World. They think they're helpless or they should be pitied because they can't do magic, or they think Muggles have nothing of value to offer the Wizarding World. Then you've got nutjobs like the Death Eaters who think Muggles are vermin who need to be wiped out. I just wanted to show one little part of Muggle culture here and hoped everyone would appreciate it. I mean, people who think the Wizarding and Muggle Worlds are totally separate are deluded. And it's not just because of Muggle-borns. How many times have magical people, you know, 'gotten involved' with Muggles? Hell, Seamus' parents are a perfect example of that. You'd think it would help to know something about the Muggle World in case that happens to some wizard or witch out there. But thanks to that story by that hag Rita Skeeter, I'm the friggin' ugly American. And it's not like I planned this whole hockey thing. It just happened. Not that it's gonna matter to Wizarding Britain. They're just gonna think I'm some overbearing, strutting Yank looking to take the spotlight away from the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"So what?" Mireet responded.

O'Bannon blinked and shook his head in surprise. "'So what?' What do you mean, 'so what?'?"

"Jimmy, in the months I have come to know you, you have always struck me as someone who is confident, who has a strong will, and who does not care what others think of him. Why are you so worried about the opinions of witches and wizards you have never met, and never will meet? You know who you are in your heart." She bit her lip for a moment. "And so do I, and the rest of our friends. That is what should matter to you."

O'Bannon stared at Mireet, contemplating what she had just said. She was, borrowing more Britspeak, "spot on." He'd never been a crowd follower. He never cared about the idiots back at Salem who made fun of him for playing hockey instead of Quidditch or Quadpot. He'd never, ever consider wearing certain clothes because "that's what the cool kids wore." He walked his own path. Other people could accept that or not, and the people who didn't accept it, well, he wouldn't waste time on them.

So why should he worry what some wizard in, say, Birmingham thought about him?

Besides, he doubted everyone in Wizarding Britain thought Rita Skeeter was a pillar of truth and virtue.

"Yeah, you're right." He gave Mireet a sheepish smile.

"I am glad you think so."

His smile grew wider. "Thanks."

They hugged, with Mireet giving him a quick peck on both cheeks. His breathing staggered as he continued holding her, relishing the feel of her body against his, still feeling the tingle on his skin where she kissed him.

O'Bannon pulled away a bit, his arms still around her. His heart beat faster as he stared into her eyes, then took in all of her beautiful face.

My God, she was so beautiful.

He leaned closer to Mireet. She remained still. He held his breath, looking at her lips, and moved even closer.

She tensed in his arms. O'Bannon froze. Mireet drew a deep breath, slipped out of his hold and got to her feet. He also stood.

"Um, Mireet. I'm, um . . . um . . ."

"It's . . . It is . . ."

They looked at each other, an awkward silence surrounding them.

"Um, I should . . ." Mireet looked at the ground, then back at him. "I should go back to the carriage and wash up before supper."

"Um, yeah. Yeah, sure. I'll see you in the Great Hall. And, um, thanks, for what you said."

"You are welcome. _Au revoir."_

She gave him a quick smile and walked toward the Beauxbatons carriage at a quick pace.

O'Bannon watched her go. Damn! He thought they had a moment there. He thought Mireet had finally moved on from her heartbreak with that Marc-Andre jackass, that she was ready to become more than just friends with him.

And he was _this close_ to kissing her.

He sighed loudly. "Damn. Now I'm depressed again."

**XXXXX**

Despite not kissing Mireet, his mood improved for the remainder of the night and into the next day. Even the hate mail he received from wizards and witches all over Britain during breakfast didn't faze him. Some of them he and his friends even laughed off.

Not all the letters were hate mail. Some of them, from Muggle-borns mainly, congratulated him on his efforts to expose the Wizarding World to Muggle culture. They also described Rita Skeeter as "a lying old bat," "a spiteful hag," and his personal favorite, "an addle-brained horse's arse who wouldn't know the truth if it slapped her across the face and gave her a right good buggering."

Talk about creative.

O'Bannon was still talking about that letter to Fred and George as they left Herbology class. They'd gotten halfway to the castle when he spotted Dennis Creevey running toward them.

"Jimmy! There you are. I've got a message from Professor Dumbledore. He wants to see you in his office. Oh, and you guys, too." Dennis nodded to Fred and George.

"Did he say what about?" O'Bannon asked.

"No, he didn't."

He thanked Dennis, who hurried back to the castle, and turned to the twins. "What do you think . . . oh crap. This isn't about the Quaffle-sized Dandruff Powder we put in the Divination classroom before the Slytherins went in there last week."

"Couldn't be that." Fred shook his head.

"Besides," George said. "When we get in trouble for pranks, it's usually McGonagall or Filch we deal with, not Dumbledore."

Deciding not to waste any more time with theories, they headed up to Headmaster Dumbledore's office. When they stepped inside, O'Bannon halted and took in the crowd around the old wizard's desk.

_What the hell? _Draco Malfoy was there, along with Percy Weasley and Ludo Bagman. He also noticed two people he hadn't met before. One was a portly little man with rumpled gray hair, a lime green bowler hat and a pinstriped suit. It took a couple of seconds for O'Bannon to recognize him from photos he'd seen in _The Daily Prophet_. It almost made his jaw drop.

He was in the same room with Cornelius Fudge, Britain's Minister of Magic! This was akin to a regular Muggle suddenly finding himself face-to-face with the President of the United States . . . or the Prime Minister here in Britain.

The last man was tall with a pale, pointed face and pale blond hair. In fact, he looked like an older version of Draco Malfoy.

_No way._

"Ah, the American and his cohorts have arrived," Lucius Malfoy said in a haughty tone. "Good. Now we can get down to business and put an end to this ridiculous Muggle game."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	34. Manipulations

**CHAPTER 34: MANIPULATIONS**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon stood frozen. What had Malfoy's father just said? He wanted to put an end to their hockey game with Slytherin?<p>

_What?_

"What?" George gave voice to O'Bannon's thought.

"What do you mean end it?" Fred's face twisted in anger. "Who are you to tell us what we can and can't do?"

"See here, young man." Fudge wagged a finger at him. "Show some respect toward your elders, especially one who's done so much for the Wizarding World."

Fred's blazing eyes shifted between Fudge and Mr. Malfoy. His face grew a dark shade of red.

"What . . . Why do you want to stop this?" O'Bannon stammered. "We're just playing a game. Why do you have a problem with it?"

"Because," Mister Malfoy answered, "as I have pointed out to Minister Fudge and Mister Bagman, it is taking attention away from the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

O'Bannon did a double-take. "What?"

"That's rubbish," Fred blurted.

Percy stepped forward, staring at them like a first grade teacher regards a group of misbehaving students. "Have you any idea how much work the Minister, Mister Crouch and Mister Bagman have put into this Tournament? Have you any idea what a great honor it is for Hogwarts, for Wizarding Britain, to host the first Tri-Wizard Tournament in nearly two centuries? The eyes of the entire Wizarding World are on us. This is our moment to show everyone we can restore the tournament to its former glory, and put that unfortunate business of the Quidditch World Cup behind us."

"Well said, Mister Weasley." Fudge nodded to him.

"Thank you, Minister." Percy smiled wide.

"Bloody hell," George muttered under his breath. "As though his head wasn't big enough already."

Percy turned back to O'Bannon, wearing a look of superiority that would have put any Slytherin to shame. "I can understand why you, as an American, would be jealous of this tournament, what with no schools from your country able to participate. But that's no reason to scheme and manipulate and draw attention to yourself, instead of where it rightly belongs, on the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

Anger drilled through O'Bannon's initial stupor. "You sound like you're quoting that Rita Skeeter story word for word. You actually believe that crap?"

Fred barked out a laugh. "All those Outstandings you got here, Perce, and you're still as thick as a bloody flubberworm."

Outrage flared in Percy's eyes. His face stiffened to the point O'Bannon thought it would split in two.

Fudge glared at Fred, then turned to the headmaster. "Dumbledore, do you not teach any manners to your students here?"

Dumbledore looked like he barely paid any attention to the Minister of Magic. Still he said to Fred, "Mister Weasley, do please show at least a modicum of respect to your older brother."

"Yes, Professor," Fred replied through clenched teeth.

O'Bannon's eyes flickered between Percy and Fudge. "That article by Skeeter is bull. She lied about everything. Anyone with half-a-brain would know it." He swallowed, worry clawing at him. Would the Minister of Magic take that as a personal insult?

The portly wizard's face scrunched in anger. He took a quick, calming breath. "Well of course I don't believe. But that's irrelevant. As Lucius pointed out when he came to see me, most of the public believes it, and they are not pleased with an American stealing attention away from such an historic event for Wizarding Britain, in order to satisfy his own ego."

"But I'm not!"

"Again, that may not be what I believe, but it is what a majority of witches and wizards believe, and you will learn when you get older that, more often than not, perception is reality."

O'Bannon glowered at Fudge, trying to come up with a response. His mind went blank. He looked over at Headmaster Dumbledore, sitting at his desk, and waited, hoped, the old wizard would stand up for him.

Unfortunately, he remained silence.

"But one thing that is reality, Minister," Mr. Malfoy said in an oozing voice, "is the inherent unfairness of this sport Mister O'Bannon is so fond of. As Miss Skeeter so keenly pointed out in her article, he has skill and knowledge of this _howl-kay_ game that his opponents do not. My son's team will be at a distinct disadvantage."

He looked to Dumbledore. "I ask you, Headmaster. Is this the sort of image you wish to project? That you give an unfair advantage to one group of students over another? My personal feeling is that a headmaster should remain unbiased, not publicly show favoritism for one house."

"Excellent point, Lucius." Bagman smiled. "Excellent point."

Both Fred and George stared daggers at the former pro Quidditch player. O'Bannon joined them.

"I agree," said Fudge. He then gave a forced sympathetic smile to O'Bannon. "I'm sorry, young man, but I'm afraid I cannot permit this _howl-kay _game of yours to proceed. Perhaps you can try again next year."

O'Bannon gaped at the Minister. "Next year? I'm gonna be back at Salem next year."

"I guess that would make it rather difficult for you to try this _howl-kay _game here again, wouldn't it?" Bagman smirked at him.

Fury burned inside O'Bannon. He felt all manner of foul words building up in his mouth, screaming for release at this fat, washed up jagoff.

_Why not? What do I have to lose now?_

He took a breath, ready to unleash his verbal barrage.

"Do you think this wise, Minister?" Dumbledore finally spoke.

O'Bannon clamped his mouth shut as Fudge replied, "You heard our reasoning, Dumbledore. All valid points."

"Then I would like to make some valid points of my own."

The Minister's left cheek twitched. O'Bannon feared Fudge would tell Dumbledore no, but the old wizard never gave him the chance.

"With all due respect, Minister, I do take issue with this notion that the general Wizarding populace believes Miss Skeeter's perception of Mister O'Bannon. If you are going solely by the letters to the editor in the _Prophet _on this matter, then you are only taking into account a very small portion of Wizarding Britain."

"There are many others who have personally told me their concerns over this _howl-kay_ game."

"As they have me," said Mr. Malfoy.

"And no one has expressed their support for this game?" Dumbledore held Fudge in his gaze. "No one at all?"

Fudge's lips tightened. He cleared his throat loudly.

Dumbledore continued. "Minister, you are aware of the atrocities committed on Muggle-borns and Muggles by Lord Voldemort and his followers."

Many in the room cringed at the mention of history's most notorious dark wizard. Even O'Bannon felt a shiver go through his body.

Fudge drew a breath and regained his composure. "Well, of course I am."

"And over the past thirteen years, Muggle-borns have campaigned for greater acceptance by the Wizarding World, of them and the culture they were born into. You yourself ran for office on the promise of fostering an atmosphere of tolerance toward Muggle-borns, who I should add, have become a significant voting block. And they do have many half-bloods and purebloods who champion their cause. I suspect they will remember something like this when the next elections come around."

Fudge swallowed.

"And Mister Bagman, Mister Weasley." Dumbledore looked at Bagman and Percy. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament is not only about which champion emerges victorious. It is, and has been since the tournament's inception, an opportunity for young wizards and witches of different nations to form friendships and create bonds that transcend borders. What our exchange student from America and the younger Weasleys here have done epitomizes that sentiment. Don't we wish to prove to the entire Wizarding World that Britain is a shining example of international magical cooperation? What better way to show that than with a sport featuring a team with students from four different countries."

O'Bannon caught a twinkle in Dumbledore's eye as he leaned forward. "Now surely, that would help put that unfortunate business at the Quidditch World Cup behind us, would it not?"

Fudge, Bagman and Percy all looked to one another, silent and unsure. Mr. Malfoy's jaw clenched to the point O'Bannon wondered if some of the man's teeth would crack.

"Those are, er, good points you make, Dumbledore," Fudge said, albeit without much enthusiasm. He then turned to O'Bannon and the twins, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Perhaps we were a bit hasty in this decision. We could promote this _howl-kay_ thing as an example of the spirit of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, international magical cooperation and all. It can also show Wizarding Britain as a leader in the area of tolerance and respect toward Muggle-borns and Muggles."

"An excellent idea, Minister." Percy nodded emphatically.

O'Bannon narrowed his eyes. Less than a minute ago Fred and George's brother ran down a list of reasons why the hockey game was a bad idea. Now, after the Minister suddenly gave his approval, he thought it was a good idea?

_What a kiss ass. _O'Bannon couldn't stand ass kissers.

"Ludo, I'm sure I can count on you and your Department of Magical Games and Sports to make whatever arrangements are needed for this _howl-kay _game."

"Of course, Minister." Bagman looked like he wanted to pout.

"And Lucius, I'm sure I can count on your support for this."

Mr. Malfoy drew a slow breath. "Of course, Minister. I'm always happy to do whatever I can for the best interests of Wizarding Britain."

Draco Malfoy, meanwhile, scowled and averted his eyes from everyone in the room.

"Then it's settled." Dumbledore planted his hands on his desk and pushed himself to his feet. "The hockey match between Mister O'Bannon's team and Mister Malfoy's team shall take place on June Eighth, two weeks before the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

Dumbledore shook hands with Fudge, Bagman, Percy and Mr. Malfoy and thanked them for coming. Fudge and Bagman then came over to O'Bannon and the twins, shook their hands and wished them luck.

Percy strutted past them, determinedly not looking in their direction. Mister Malfoy scowled at them as he walked by. Draco kept his head down, looking paler than normal.

After thanking Headmaster Dumbledore, Fred and George dashed out of the office.

"Yo, guys. Wait up," O'Bannon said after offering his profuse thanks to the old wizard. He almost had to jog to keep up with the twins' longer strides.

"Mister Bagman," Fred called out. "Mister Bagman."

The former Beater looked over his shoulder as he trailed Minister Fudge and Percy. An annoyed look came over his face. He picked up his pace.

"Mister Bagman," George said in a demanding tone.

"Sorry, boys." Bagman gave them a short wave. "Must get back to London. Loads more to do with your _howl-kay_ game thrown on top of everything."

"But it'll just take a -"

"You heard Mister Bagman." Percy planted himself between the twins and the two Ministry men. "He's very busy. So stop pestering him."

"Out of the way, Percy." Fred jerked his head to the left. "We've got business with ol' Ludo."

"What sort of business would you two have with the head of a Ministry department?"

"It doesn't concern you."

"If it involves the Ministry, it concerns me."

Fred and George glowered at their older brother as he continued. "If you have a request or a comment for Mister Bagman, put it in writing and owl it to him."

"Why?" asked George. "So he can ignore it?"

Percy furrowed his brow. "I don't have time for your foolishness. I have important things to do."

"Really?" Fred gave him a half-smile. "What, need to refill Fudge's ink bottles and tell him how lovely his bowler hat looks?"

Percy's nostrils flared. He spun around and stomped down the corridor in the direction of Fudge and Bagman, both of whom were nowhere in sight.

"Bloody twit." George sneered and shook his head.

"So much for helping out family," said Fred. "Bagman is really starting to hack me off. How much longer is he going to dodge us?"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" O'Bannon looked back and forth between Fred and George.

They turned to him, then to each other, and shrugged.

"Bagman owes us money," George explained.

"What? How does some big wig at the Ministry of Magic owe you guys money?"

"We ran into Bagman at the World Cup," Fred said as they began walking. "Bet him thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts, and even a joke wand, that Ireland would win . . ."

"But that Viktor Krum would catch the snitch," George concluded.

O'Bannon whistled in amazement. "That's pretty ballsy."

"But we were spot on." Fred nodded.

"Except Bagman paid us in leprechaun gold," said George.

"You're kidding." O'Bannon shook his head. Just when he thought his opinion of Ludo Bagman couldn't get any lower. Leprechaun gold? Seriously? Whenever humans got hold of leprechaun gold, it disappeared a few hours later.

"We thought it was an honest mistake," said Fred.

"But we've sent the fat git Merlin knows how many owls. He's ignored every one of them." A frustrated expression formed on George's face. "And every time we've seen him here at Hogwarts . . . well, you saw what happened. He couldn't get away from us fast enough."

"Dude, that sucks. Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks." Fred nodded. "But enough of our tale of woe, we need to celebrate. Our hockey game is back on."

"Yeah, you're right." O'Bannon smiled. "Man, I can't believe Dumbledore got your Minister of Magic to change his mind like that."

"That's Dumbledore for you," said George.

"Heh! You should send that guy to the Middle East. He could settle all the problems over there in about a half-an-hour."

"Come again?" Fred gave him a puzzled look.

"Oh. It's a Muggle World thing. Think of Gryffindor and Slytherin, only a thousand times worse."

"Blimey." Fred drew his head back. "Sounds like a bad situation, that."

"Yeah. Really bad."

"I do have to say," George started. "I'm not surprised Malfoy tried to worm his way out of our match."

"Me neither," said O'Bannon. "The guy's a coward. Always wants others -"

"Oy, shut it," Fred snapped.

O'Bannon turned to him, baffled. "Da'hell?"

George gave him a similar look. "What was that about?"

Fred shushed them again. That's when O'Bannon heard voices coming from the next corridor. He, Fred and George walked as quietly as possible to the corner and peeked around it.

They saw Mister Malfoy and Draco about twenty feet away, with the elder Malfoy speaking in a low, angry voice.

"How could you let yourself be put in this situation? Have you any idea what this could do to our family's reputation? Did you ever give that a single thought? Are you even capable of thinking?"

"I-I'm sorry, father." Draco's voice quivered.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, O'Bannon felt sympathy toward Draco Malfoy. All he could think of was his good friend Artimus Rand back at Salem, how is own father had said similar things to him. Nothing he did was ever good enough. He was an embarrassment to the family. It blew his mind that Artimus and Draco could be in such similar situations.

But the similarities ended there. While Artimus was a shy, quiet boy who didn't have a hateful bone in his body, Draco Malfoy was a bullying, petty bigot who thought himself better than everyone else.

O'Bannon's sympathy for him ended there and then.

"You should have owled me about this right when it happened. We could have stopped this foolishness before it ever got this far."

"I . . . I told you. I wanted to keep it a secret from you so I could surprise you when I won, and show you I can succeed."

Mister Malfoy stepped closer to his son, their faces just inches apart. An angry breath shot from Mister Malfoy's nostrils. "You think this would please me? Lowering yourself and the Malfoy name by playing a game created by vermin."

Fury burned within O'Bannon at the swipe against Muggles.

Mister Malfoy continued. "For your sake, you had better win this match, because you can't possibly fathom the damage losing to a group of Mudbloods and blood traitors will do to our family's reputation."

"Y-Yes, Father." Draco slinked back against the wall.

Mister Malfoy snorted and stormed off . . .

Right toward O'Bannon and the twins!

They drew their heads back and straightened up just as Mister Malfoy rounded the corner. He stopped and stared at them, rage and hate burning in his eyes.

O'Bannon squared his shoulders and met his gaze. No way would he back down.

"Brilliant pep talk you gave your son back there, Mister Malfoy." Fred nodded around the corner.

"I agree," said George. "After a speech like that, we don't stand a chance against your son's team."

"We'll be beaten soundly."

"Thrashed."

"Sent home with our tails between our legs."

O'Bannon couldn't stop himself from laughing.

Mister Malfoy's entire body trembled with rage. With one final glare, he stomped down the corridor, clenching his fists.

Seconds later Draco Malfoy appeared. He stared at the trio, his expression wavering between anger and embarrassment.

"Looks like Daddy couldn't get you out of this one, huh, Malfoy." Fred smirked at him.

"Not even the Minister of Magic could get you out of it," George added. "Maybe you could appeal to the Wizengamot. They might overrule Fudge."

"But if they don't, there's always the International Confederation of Wizards."

The twins looked to one another, tilted their heads, then turned back to Malfoy.

"On second thought," said Fred. "They probably wouldn't stand a chance against the persuasive powers of Professor Dumbledore."

A tic formed under Malfoy's right eye.

"Now come on guys." O'Bannon held up his hands. "Let's show a little compassion for poor ol' Drake here."

"Mate, are you mental?" asked George.

"Hear me out. Drake obviously doesn't have it in him to cowboy up," – the twins gave him bewildered looks over the term – "and face us on the ice. So, nice guy that I am, I will give him the chance to back out."

"What?" the twins blurted, incredulous looks on their freckled faces.

"Do you think I'm a fool?" Malfoy glared at O'Bannon. "I know you don't mean that."

"But I do. If you don't want to play us in hockey, you don't have to. But, it does come with a price."

Malfoy eyed him with suspicion. "What price?"

"Well, you have to apologize to every member of the hockey club for melting our ice and dropping us into that freezing cold pond. Oh, and you have to do it in the Great Hall, in front of the whole school."

Malfoy's eyes bulged.

"While you're at it," said Fred. "How about you also apologize to Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas and all the other Muggle-borns you've called . . . that 'M' word since you first got to Hogwarts."

"Ooooh!" O'Bannon nearly bounced with excitement. "Dude, wicked pissah! Yeah! You do all that, Drake, and we'll call off the game."

Malfoy's face twitched. "You can't be serious. I won't do that."

O'Bannon responded with a faux frown. "Aww, you know, I shouldn't do this. I mean, this really pushing the limits of fair play, but I'm gonna give you one more chance – aw damn, I woulda made a great Hufflepuff."

Fred and George chuckled as O'Bannon continued. "You better think about it hard, 'cause I am not putting this offer on the table again. You apologize, in the Great Hall, in front of the whole school, to the -"

"No! No! Never! I'll never apologize to you or any other piece of filth Mudblood and blood traitor at this school. Never! You can all go to hell!"

O'Bannon turned to the twins, shrugged and looked back at Malfoy. "Well, you had your chance. And if you don't mind some advice from a 'piece of filth Mudblood,' you and your Slytherin pals better practice your asses off from now until June, because after what I just heard, disappointing Daddy doesn't seem like a good idea."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	35. The Second Task

**CHAPTER 35: THE SECOND TASK**

* * *

><p>The tongue-lashing from Lucius Malfoy, along with O'Bannon messing with his mind by wanting an apology he never seriously expected, seemed to have the desired effect on Draco Malfoy. He was drilling his team hard. At least that's what Fred and George told O'Bannon after he'd sent them to spy on the Slytherins. He didn't feel the least bit guilty about doing that. If Malfoy had any brains, one of his snake buddies was behind a Camouflage Charm watching them right now.<p>

"He had 'em doing passing drills and defensive drills," Fred reported to the team after practice. "And I have to admit, they looked pretty decent."

"Malfoy does seem to be taking our game more seriously now," said George. "Probably doesn't want Daddy yelling at him again."

"I wonder if the other snakes got the same line from their parents, too." Fred wore a stern look and wagged his finger. "'Don't you go losing to those despicable Muggle-borns and blood traitors, else you'll be sleeping outside with the garden gnomes all summer holiday.'"

Many of the players laughed, including O'Bannon. "Well I'm glad to hear they're motivated. That means we oughta have a great game when we square off in June."

Someone snorted behind him. He turned to find Cormac McLaggen shaking his head.

"I can't believe you're happy about the snakes getting better at hockey. We should all be hoping they do horribly right up to our match."

"I told you, I want this to be competitive game. That won't happen if Malfoy's bunch suck."

"Here we go again with the whole fair play rubbish. Blimey, the Sorting Hat should have stuck you in Hufflepuff."

Ernie and Justin glared at McLaggen, obviously not happy with his tone.

"You know what?" O'Bannon said. "Tomorrow we could bring a group of First Years out here who don't know the first thing about hockey, play them and beat their brains in. But what would that prove?"

"That we're the better team, of course, since we won." McLaggen stared at O'Bannon like he had to be the dumbest guy walking the planet.

"Really? You really think that makes us the better team? You know what it proves, McLaggen? Nothing. But if we play a team that's on the same level as us, if we fight and claw and scrap every minute we're on the ice and come away with the win, then we truly know that we're the better team."

McLaggen scoffed. "What nonsense. Now were it me running this team -"

"But you're not, I am. And most everyone here seems to agree with me that we want to face Slytherin at the top of their game, because that will make the victory a satisfying one."

Many of the boys and girls around him nodded.

McLaggen emitted an exasperated breath.

Minutes later O'Bannon dismissed the team. As he sat on the bank to untie his skates, Mireet joined him.

"I do not like that McLaggen boy. He is very arrogant."

"You won't get an argument from me."

"He also keeps looking at me in a desirous way." Mireet scrunched her face in disgust.

"You want me to say anything to him?"

She smiled at him and patted his shoulder, sending tingles through his body. "No, but thank you. Should he make any untoward advances, I shall decline them." She paused. "Though McLaggen strikes me as a boy who does not take no for an answer. I may have to hex him to make my point."

O'Bannon chuckled. His heartbeat quickened as he looked at Mireet, who smiled even wider. Damn, but she had a beautiful smile. Everything about her was beautiful. But beneath that lovely exterior beat the heart of a lion. Mireet wasn't afraid to stand up for herself. And when the fight was on, he couldn't imagine her backing down easily.

It made him even more attracted to her.

_It's been almost two months since the Yule Ball. How much longer are you gonna torture yourself?_

After saying their farewells, O'Bannon headed back to Gryffindor Tower, where he showered before heading down to dinner. On his way to the Great Hall, he replayed the incident with McLaggen in his mind, along with Mireet's comments about him. He grunted in frustration. Out of all the goalie candidates, McLaggen was far and away the best. The guy was a gifted athlete with lightning-fast reflexes.

His attitude, however, sucked. He didn't know one person in training camp who actually liked the guy. Hell, he didn't even like McLaggen.

_So long as he stops pucks, we can put up with the attitude._

_I hope._

As February wore on, O'Bannon shortened the amount of time they spent on drills in favor of more five-on-five scrimmages. Play, as expected, was choppy, with lots of missed or intercepted passes, and quite a few defensive breakdowns. More than once he had to suppress the urge to yell when they botched plays that he could have made easily.

_They're still learning the game. Be patient. _He didn't want to turn into one of those coaches who yelled all the time. He had one of those back in his youth hockey days. Every little mistake they made, the guy went ballistic. It put the whole team on edge. Their play suffered, they had no fun, and they finished near the bottom of the league.

O'Bannon vowed he would not turn into that coach.

"Talk more," he'd say in a calm voice. "If you're open, shout it out to whoever has the puck. And pull the trigger quicker. This is a fast-paced game. You can't afford to take too much time thinking about what you're going to do."

Their performance improved as they entered the final week of February. On the 22nd he held a light practice, then gave the team the day off on the 23rd. He doubted anyone would have their mind on hockey that day, not with the big event that loomed before them.

February 24th was the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Even O'Bannon had a hard time thinking about hockey. Talk during meals, and during some classes, centered around what the champions would have to face, and what clues their eggs gave them. He also wondered how Harry Potter would fare. He didn't look terrified, like he had before the first task with the Hungarian Horntail. This time he looked on the verge of panic.

"Just stay cool, Harry," he told him at dinner the night before the second task. "You got through the first task fine, you can get through this one, too."

"Yeah. Thanks, Jimmy." The words tumbled out of Harry's mouth, another sign of his anxiety.

The morning of the second task, the students gathered in the Great Hall for an early breakfast before heading down to the lake. Huge grandstands had been set up along the banks, with the gold-draped judges table situated at the water's edge. The champions stood near the table. Three of them anyway. Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum.

"Where's Harry at?" Lee Jordan swung his head left to right.

O'Bannon also looked around, searching for any sign of the familiar mussed black hair, glasses and lightning bolt scar. He had no luck.

"Yo, Dean. Seamus. You guys seen Harry?"

Dean shrugged, while Seamus said, "Nope. He wasn't in our room when we woke up this morning."

O'Bannon grimaced. He recalled some of the lessons he had in his History of Magic classes back at Salem on what happened to people who broke magical contracts. To say the consequences were very bad would be the understatement of the millennium.

_Harry, you better get your ass down here pronto._

He followed Fred, George and Lee into the Gryffindor stands. When the twins took their seats, their brows furrowed and they looked around.

"Oy, Ginny," Fred called to her. "Where's Ron at?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since last night. Him or Hermione. And I'm worried about Harry. Why isn't he here yet?"

"No idea, Gin," said George. "In fact we were just asking -"

"Look!" shouted Neville Longbottom. "There's Harry!"

O'Bannon spotted Harry Potter pounding across the lawn. When he reached the judges' table, he skidded to a halt, kicking up mud that splattered Fleur's robes. The French witch jumped back, then glowered at Harry, who doubled over and gasped for breath.

"Cuttin' it pretty close there."

Fred gave O'Bannon a dismissive wave. "Oh stop worrying. Harry just wanted to make a dramatic entrance."

"Now we can finally start this thing." George cupped his hands around his mouth. "Go Harry!"

That sparked cheers and applause.

After Harry caught his breath, Headmaster Dumbledore pointed his wand at his throat. His voice boomed throughout the grandstands.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely one hour to recover what was taken from them."

O'Bannon raised an eyebrow. _Taken from them? _What exactly did they have taken? He imagined it had to be something really valuable to make them dive into the cold lake. Could it be a family heirloom? Some sort of memento?

"On the count of three," Dumbledore said. "One . . . two . . . three!"

Cedric, Fleur and Viktor removed their shoes and socks and charged into the water. Cedric and Fleur both cast Bubble-Head Charms, while Viktor transformed his head and torso into that of a shark.

"Okay, now that is wicked cool." O'Bannon pointed at the Bulgarian as he vanished under the water, along with Cedric and Fleur.

"Eh," both Fred and George muttered, though from the look in their eyes they, too, were impressed by Viktor's transfiguration.

Harry just stood waist deep in the water, not making any move to go under.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Alicia wondered. "Why is he just standing there?"

Several people around her, including Lee and George, shrugged. O'Bannon had no answer. Maybe Harry had second thoughts.

_C'mon. The guy makes it past a Hungarian Horntail, but gets intimidated by a lake?_

Harry continued standing in the water, shivering. Laughter and jeers came from the grandstands, most of it by the Slytherins, with some Hufflepuffs mixed in.

"Come on, Harry!" shouted Katie Bell.

"Get on with it!" urged Seamus.

Suddenly Harry wavered. He clapped his hands around his throat.

"What's wrong with him?" Ginny's eyes widened, worrying spreading across her face.

"He looks like he's going to faint," Neville said, his voice quivering.

O'Bannon tensed, waiting for Dumbledore to hurry over and help Harry.

Before anyone could come to his aid, Harry flung himself into the water. When no one rushed over to check on him, O'Bannon assumed that meant Harry was okay.

Dumbledore then waved his wand. A rolled up tapestry floated above the lake and unfurled itself. It showed four figures swimming under the water, with plants and fish around them. The bottom corner displayed crude stone structures with grayish half-human, half-fish beings swimming around them.

"That's the merepeople village," Angelina declared. "They have to go there?"

Lee grimaced. "I don't envy them. Merepeople are the friendliest creatures around."

O'Bannon continued to stare at the tapestry, watching the figures inch closer to the village. He couldn't agree with Lee more. The champions would have their hands full with merepeople guarding whatever had been taken from them.

Five minutes passed. The champions were still a fair distance from the merepeople village.

"I must say, George. I'm growing rather weary sitting here waiting for something exciting to happen."

"So am I, Fred. What say we do something more productive with our time?"

"I couldn't agree more."

Grinning, Fred reached into his robes and pulled out a pink, oval-shaped piece of rubber.

"You brought one of the whoopee cushions I gave you for Christmas?"

"Oh no, Jimmy Boy," Fred replied. "This isn't one of your whoopee cushions. George and I made this one ourselves."

"Though with a few improvements," George added.

O'Bannon raised an eyebrow. "What kind of improvements?"

Fred beamed at him and waved his wand over the whoopee cushion. It inflated by itself. He then cast a Disillusionment Charm on it.

O'Bannon titled his head, perplexed. "I don't get it. It still looks the same."

"Of course it does to you, me, George and Lee. But no one else can see it."

"And now comes the best part," George declared.

With a flick of his wand, Fred levitated the whoopee cushion over the crowd until it settled near Parvati Patil.

"I think Parvati should have been a bit nicer to Harry at the Yule Ball, don't you, George?"

"Absolutely, Fred."

Fred aimed his wand at the whoopee cushion. _"Eruptio Maximus."_

The wet, ripping sound exploded throughout the grandstands like a bomb. Parvati whipped her head around, mouth agape. Several students looked at her with wide eyes. Laughter broke out.

"Shut up!" she cried. "It wasn't me. Shut up."

Lee roared with laughter. "Brilliant, guys! Bloody brilliant."

The twins thanked him as O'Bannon slapped his knee and laughed. "Aw, dude. You can't stop there."

"Stop?" Fred replied. "We're just getting warmed up."

"Now let's see." George scanned the crowd. "Who shall our next victim be?"

"McLaggen!" Lee blurted. "I'm sick of that wanker going on about what a great goalie he is."

"McLaggen it is, then."

Fred guided the whoopee cushion over to McLaggen's seat. Another explosive fart sound burst from it. Embarrassment blazed on McLaggen's face as everyone around him laughed.

"Is that your doing?" Angelina looked at the twins with an accusatory stare.

"Must you?" asked Katie. "Here of all places?"

"Yes, Katie."

"We must."

The unseen, floating whoopee cushion made its way to the Ravenclaw stands, the Hufflepuff stands, the stands shared by the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, and finally, the Slytherin stands. This time Fred, George, Lee and O'Bannon took turns setting it off. Crabbe and Goyle both fell victim to the fake farting noise. So did Millicent Bulstrode, Ares Urquhart, Graham Montague, Pansy Parkinson, and of course, Draco Malfoy. O'Bannon nearly fell out of his seat laughing at their embarrassed and indignant reactions.

"And last but not least." Fred guided the whoopee cushion toward the judges' table.

"Dude!" O'Bannon gaped at him. "No way." He looked back down at the table. Tendrils of nervousness slithered through him. They could get in mega-trouble for this.

His worry evaporated when a fart noise erupted near Karkaroff. The shocked look on the Durmstrang headmaster's face was priceless. O'Bannon howled with laughter.

"This'll teach you to welch on our bet," George said before setting off the whoopee cushion next to Ludo Bagman.

Lee's turn was next. He cast _Eruptio Maximus _on Madam Maxime.

"And now, Jimmy Boy, you get the honor of using our new and improved whoopee cushion on our dear brother Percy." Fred pointed his hand toward the most unlikable of the Weasley siblings.

"Yes, we torture him all the time," said George. "Time to let someone else have a go at it."

"You're too kind." O'Bannon grinned and pointed his wand in Percy's direction. _"Eruptio Maximus!"_

Percy jumped almost a foot in the air at the explosive fart.

Fred and George fell over one another in hysterics. Lee laughed so hard tears streamed from his eyes. O'Bannon's entire body quaked with laughter. He couldn't remember ever doing something this outrageous back at Salem.

"Will you pillocks stop it now?" Angelina glowered at them. "They're almost at the merepeople village."

O'Bannon looked up. "Oh yeah. I forgot about this Tri-Wizard thing."

Angelina looked like she was about to backhand him. Instead she shook her head, snorted and turned back around.

O'Bannon turned his attention to the floating tapestry. Fleur was standing still just outside the village, with images of small, horned creatures around her. Grindylows. He'd seen some in Care of Magical Creatures Class during his Third Year at Salem. Nasty, foul-tempered little things with sharp fangs. He hoped Fleur fared well against them.

Harry had already reached the village and was surrounded by merepeople. A minute later Cedric entered the village, and just as quickly departed.

"Musta found what he needed to," O'Bannon said.

"Bugger." Fred scowled. "That's all we need. Pretty Boy Diggory winning this task."

"C'mon, Harry!" Lee shouted. "Get what you need and go!"

But Harry didn't go. Instead Viktor Krum darted into the village, then darted back out.

O'Bannon shifted in his seat, eyes glued to the tapestry. He waited for Harry to leave the merepeople village.

Waited . . . waited . . . waited.

"C'mon, Potter!" he hollered. "Get your ass in gear!"

Harry remained in the village.

O'Bannon slapped his hands over his face and groaned. My God, it was like watching a Yankees/Red Sox game, with the friggin' Yankees beating up on the Sox.

_Dammit! We're gonna lose –_

"Yes!" He heard Ginny cry out. "Go, Harry!"

He looked up. Relief flooded him as he saw Harry make his way out of the merepeople village.

Then disappointment hit him when he saw Cedric surface, along with someone else, someone with damp black hair clinging to her pretty Asian features.

It was Cho Chang!

"Da'Hell?" He gawked at Cedric and Cho as they swam for shore, then turned to the twins and Lee. "That's what they took from Cedric? His girlfriend? They actually took people?"

Before anyone could answer him, Krum broke through the surface, along with Hermione Granger. They were followed by Fleur Delacour. When everyone made it to shore, they were wrapped in blankets and attended to by Madam Pomfrey.

Except for Fleur. She ran around to all the judges, waving her arms and shouting.

"What's she on about?" Lee wondered.

"She didn't come up with anyone," O'Bannon said. "I guess that means whoever they took is still down there." He swallowed. "Crap, I hope they're gonna be okay."

"Of course they will," Fred told him. "You know they've taken precautions to make sure no one gets killed in this tournament."

O'Bannon nodded and turned back to the lake, hoping Fred was right. His eyes flickered between the tapestry and the lake. Harry was making slow progress to the surface.

_C'mon, Harry. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon._

Harry broke through the surface. Wild cheers erupted from the Gryffindors. O'Bannon jumped to his feet, yelling and pumping his fist.

"Bloody hell!" George blurted. "No wonder Ron never showed here. Harry's got him."

O'Bannon watched Harry swim for the shore, Ron next to him. They both had a hold of a small blond girl. Once they reached dry land, Fleur nearly knocked over the other judges to get to the little girl, whom she hugged tightly.

_Wonder if that's her sister._

Once everyone had settled, the scores were announced. Fleur received 25 points, mainly for how she used a Bubble-Head Charm. O'Bannon thought that was damn generous, since she never even made it to the merepeople village.

Cedric got 47 points – _Dammit – _for being the first to return to the surface, though he was one minute over the allotted time limit.

Though the judges declared Krum's man-shark transfiguration had not been done perfectly, he did receive 40 points.

O'Bannon tensed as Ludo Bagman announced Harry's results.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mister Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all the hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges . . ."

O'Bannon swore Bagman shot a nasty look Karkaroff's way before continuing, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However, Mister Potter's score is forty-five points."

The Gryffindors broke into wild cheers and applause.

"Let's hear it for moral fiber!" Fred shouted as he clapped.

"Yeah! Harry rules!" O'Bannon high-fived everyone around him.

Madam Pomfrey herded the champions and the "hostages" back to the castle. The students filed out of the stands, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs still whooping it up over their respective champion's success.

"I can't wait to get hold of Harry and find out what happened down there," Lee said.

"Yeah." O'Bannon glanced back at the lake. "I mean, between merepeople and grindylows, it had to be -"

"Fred Weasley! George Weasley! Mister Jordan! Mister O'Bannon!"

All four of them froze upon hearing the voice of Professor McGonagall. They slowly turned to find the old witch glaring at them, her arms folded.

_Crap. Busted._

**XXXXX**

McGonagall tore into all four of them back in her office. "Disgraceful . . . abhorrent . . . Disrespectful," were just some of the words she used in describing their whoopee cushion prank. Apparently, after they set it off near Bagman, she spotted them pointing their wands at the other judges and producing the same loud fart sounds.

Their punishment was a week's detention. They also had to apologize to each of the judges.

"Even Percy?" Fred had quipped.

O'Bannon's ear drums nearly ruptured from McGonagall's yelling at the Weasley twin.

Letters would also be owled to all their parents, with an additional one going to Salem and Headmistress Esmeralda.

Despite it all, O'Bannon didn't feel the same sort of anxiety or dread he had during his first couple of detentions at Hogwarts. He just shrugged and accepted it. Besides, the magical whoopee cushion had been hysterical. It was worth getting in trouble.

The thought gave him pause. _Jeez, I have been hanging around these guys too much._

After McGonagall dismissed them, they headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. A crowd had gathered around Harry, not just Gryffindors, but quite a few Ravenclaws, a smattering of Hufflepuffs, Harkorth and a couple other Durmstrang students, and Mireet. All of them listened with rapt attention as Harry related his adventure in the merepeople village.

"I still can't believe you dragged both Ron and Fleur's sister out of there," said Michael Corner. "And with the merepeople after you the whole way. That is seriously cool."

Ernie MacMillan cleared his throat, as though about to make some dramatic announcement. "Even though I am supporting Cedric in this, I must say, well done, Harry."

"Er, thanks." Harry nodded to the Hufflepuff boy.

"Well, you were lucky to be down in the merepeople village, where you didn't have to listen to those disgusting sounds made by these four gits." Angelina turned to O'Bannon, Fred, George and Lee with narrowed eyes.

Ron's face scrunched. "What disgusting sounds?"

Fred gave a Chesire Cat-like grin. "Oh, we decided to test our new magical whoopee cushion on a few select students."

"And a few select judges," added George.

"You didn't!" Hermione looked aghast.

"We did."

"And we helped." Lee pointed to himself and O'Bannon.

Mireet gaped at them. "You . . . You actually made that horrible sound near Madam Maxime." She said something in very harsh French. "She is the headmistress of my school. How could you do something so disrespectful?"

O'Bannon swallowed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh, it wasn't me. I did it to Percy. Lee was the one who got Madam Maxime."

Lee whipped his head toward O'Bannon, his expression one of total shock. "You bloody traitor!"

Mireet gave them both a stern look. O'Bannon lowered his gaze to the floor.

"I will not complain of you doing that to Karkaroff," Harkorth said. "I not like him much. Neither does Viktor, and many others at Durmstrang. Karkaroff is not a good headmaster. I think he actually likes the Dark Arts. Durmstrang already has bad reputation. Many think we all like Dark Arts there. Not true."

"Sorry to hear that, man," said O'Bannon.

Harkorth nodded to him. He went on about other details of his school, many of which he and his friends had issues with, like how Muggle-borns could not attend.

"Grandfather was Muggle-born. My father says he was a skilled wizard, good as any pureblood. Not admitting Muggle-borns to Durmstrang is stupid."

"Hear, hear," said Dean. Justin and Hermione nodded in agreement.

"There are many at Beauxbatons who look down on Muggle-borns, and the Muggle World in general," Mireet told them.

"Must be tough on you," said Katie. "Being your mum works with your Muggle Relations Department."

"_Oui_. But to worry about what ignorant people think about you is a waste of time."

The discussion on attitudes toward Muggle-borns and the Muggle World continued. A few of the students told O'Bannon they felt the hockey game in June would do a lot to build more understanding for wizards and witches of the Muggle World.

"Except for the Slytherins," noted Ron. "But they're a lost cause anyway."

Many of the students laughed at that.

The conversation went on, Mireet and Harkorth wanting to know about the issues involving Slytherin and the other Hogwarts houses. Dean and Seamus mentioned a brawl that happened between the Gryffindors and Slytherins at a dueling club in their second year. Talk then returned to the hockey game, with Susan Bones wanting to know how O'Bannon originally got interested in hockey. Terry Boot asked if he preferred Quidditch over hockey. Students then started talking about Quidditch games they'd been to, including the World Cup. Everyone looked very impressed when Mireet told them her grandfather had played for the French national team and now served as their flying couch.

They talked well after the food and plates had magically vanished from the table. About their hobbies – O'Bannon learned Justin liked to go fishing with his uncle and Katie played flute in a small concert band during summer break. About their families, their hometowns. Dean, Terry and Ernie brought up humorous stories about past Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, including Gilderoy Lockhart and the day he let loose a bunch of Cornish Pixies, which wreaked havoc in class.

They talked, they laughed, for hours. O'Bannon gazed around at them, noting that the vast majority were members of the hockey team. A smile grew on his face. They were doing what all teams did if they wanted to be successful.

They were bonding.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	36. The Final Cut

**CHAPTER 36: THE FINAL CUT**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon noticed the hockey club's play improve following their bonding day. Passes looked crisper. Teamwork was better. Everyone put more effort into their play. Good thing, too, since from everything he heard from the Weasley twins' scouting missions, the Slytherins had been getting better and better every day.<p>

As March wore on, he developed a better sense of each player's skills, abilities and mentalities. Katie Bell, Anthony Goldstein and Miroslav Harkorth all possessed unflappable personalities, even when things around them weren't going well. Seamus Finnigan and Ginny Weasley had fiery personalities and had no problem pushing, shoving or elbowing others to keep control of the puck. Ernie MacMillan, Jimmy Peakes and Terry Boot, however, got pissed if they missed too many shots, which affected their play for the rest of practice.

When it came to time trials and skating drills, Ginny, Mireet and Michael Corner proved some of fastest and most agile players on the team, with Dean Thomas and Katie not far behind. O'Bannon was in the middle of the pack, as he expected. Speed and agility had never been his biggest strengths. But he looked like a jet fighter compared to Ernie, the Creevey brothers, and two huge guys from Durmstrang named Stanimir Kurdzeli and Valko Velich.

_They're like tanks with skates._

The goaltender position still concerned him. McLaggen had turned into an absolute wall in net. If he'd been a Muggle, there would be college coaches looking at him.

But the guy's attitude worsened day by day. McLaggen berated players who didn't perform to his liking, especially if he let a goal in. He always placed the blame on the defensemen, never himself. O'Bannon couldn't count the number of times he'd told McLaggen to shut up, or the number of laps he'd made him run, or the amount of push-ups he'd made him do. None of it changed McLaggen's behavior. The friction between him and the rest of the players grew. He'd had to stop practice twice to keep Seamus and Kurdzeli from pounding the goalie to a pulp. He also gave Ginny a warning glance after one practice when she gripped her wand while glaring at McLaggen.

_Why does he have to be so good?_ Had McLaggen sucked, he would have been gone a long time ago. But no hockey team could be successful without great goaltending. And who else could compare with McLaggen? Harkorth was competent, but a back-up goalie at best. Susan Bones had a great attitude and always worked hard, and had improved since the start of training camp . . . somewhat. Lee Jordan also worked hard, but hadn't gotten any better since they first started the hockey club.

Then there was Ron Weasley.

Fred and George's younger brother had shown flashes of brilliance. At times he even looked the equal of McLaggen in net. But whenever he let a puck through, his confidence went in the toilet, and the floodgates opened.

_I wonder how Don Cherry would handle this?_

Unfortunately, he didn't have the famed ex-Boston Bruins coach around. The final decision on goalie would be his and his alone.

Another decision he had to make regarding the team, however, would be much easier.

On the last Saturday of March, O'Bannon had the twins and Angelina meet him in the Charms classroom.

"So what's with the super secret meeting, Jimmy Boy?" Fred asked as they took their seats.

"Well, hopefully you guys remember from my Intro to Hockey talks that when it comes to leadership on the ice, there's the captain, and there are two alternate captains. Basically, players who act like a second-in-command, who can take over and run things if the captain is in the penalty box or gets hurt. I've been giving it a lot of thought over the last couple of weeks, and I've made my decision."

He looked to Angelina. "Ang, I've seen how you take control on the ice, the way you talk to the other players and how you're not afraid to point out problems when they need pointing out. Most importantly, the players respond to you. So congratulations, you get to wear an A."

"Thank you, Jimmy. You can count on me."

"I know I can." O'Bannon then turned to the Weasley. "Now, normally a team has two alternate captains. But when it comes to you guys, we'll you're a package deal. And some leagues do allow three alternate captains. So both of you get A's, too."

"Them?" Angelina exclaimed.

"Us?" both Fred and George blurted.

"Oh, quit looking so surprised. Fred, George, you guys are always patient explaining things, especially to the younger players. People feel relaxed around you, they aren't afraid to talk to you. Plus, you've got drive and really good organizational skills."

Angelina gawked at him. "Drive? Organizational skills? Them? Have you ever seen their grades? Have you ever seen them study?"

"Study?" A faux-puzzled look came over Fred's face.

"What's that?" asked George.

"I think it's that thing Hermione Granger does all the time."

Angelina shot O'Bannon a doubtful look. "Jimmy, you know I count these two among my best friends, but seriously?"

"Yes, I am serious. Have you seen how complicated some of their pranks are? All the planning they do for them? And what about that joke shop they want to open one day? These guys are dead serious about that, and they already have plans on how to make it happen. They're doing the kind of things that leaders need to do."

Fred grimaced. "Well if something happens to you or Ang and we have to lead this team . . ."

"You may as well give the win to Slytherin," added George.

"Ha-ha. C'mon, if push comes to shove, I know you guys'll come through."

"What if we turn down this great honor?" asked George.

"You can't. _El Capitan _has spoken, and the matter is closed."

Fred and George looked at one another, shrugged, and grinned.

"And here Mum thought we'd never amount to anything," said Fred.

O'Bannon smiled. "Well, know that that's out of the way, it's time for your first responsibility as alternate captains."

"And what's that?" asked Angelina.

"Helping me make the final cuts."

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon wanted to discuss this somewhere away from the castle, where they wouldn't be interrupted, or where students wouldn't eavesdrop on them. He suggested going to see Hagrid and asking if they could use his hut, but Fred cut him off.

"Forget Hagrid's hut. We have a better place."

"Yes," George jumped in. "A secret place."

"A very secret place."

"Follow us," they both said and headed for the door.

O'Bannon raised an eyebrow and turned to Angelina. "You know what they're talking about?"

"No bloody idea."

They followed the twins to the second floor, where they went through a tapestry of hippogriffs battling a dragon. They all had to use _Lumos _charms to illuminate the tunnel they entered. After about ten minutes of walking, the quartet ended up in front of a rock wall with a crude engraving of the Hogwarts crest. Fred took out his wand and tapped the images of the Gryffindor lion, Ravenclaw eagle, Hufflepuff badger and Slytherin snake. With a cracking and grinding, the wall rose.

"Whoa." O'Bannon gazed at a small room with a worn out sofa and two chairs in similar condition. A faded and chipped table in the corner had a battered Wizarding Wireless. Next to it was a simple wooden box. Posters of the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team and a Wizarding band called Wicked Wands hung from the rock walls.

"When did you come up with this?" Angelina stepped inside.

"We didn't," Fred told her.

"We found it," said George.

"This little spot's been here for nearly a century, judging by the markings on the wall."

Both O'Bannon and Angelina pointed their glowing wands at the rock wall. They found names and dates, some going back to the 1920s. A few former students had also engraved hearts and initials, including one that read "JP and LE."

"We sometimes come down here to test our joke products," George explained. "Good place for it if something goes wrong, that way we're the only ones affected."

"How thoughtful of you," Angelina said with a hint of sarcasm.

"It's also a nice place to entertain any lovely young witches who succumb to our charm." Fred grinned, until his gaze fell on Angelina. His smile faded, and both of them averted their eyes.

O'Bannon frowned. He hadn't been the only one who got the "just friends" speech after the Yule Ball. Angelina had laid that on Fred, too, when he tried to make his move.

Long, uncomfortable seconds of silence passed before George saved the day. "Um, here. We're always properly stocked."

He walked over to the wooden box and opened it. Ice coated the interior. George levitated out four bottles of butterbeer and bags of Chocoballs, toffees and pumpkin pasties. While he used a charm to thaw them out, Fred flicked his wand and sent a ball of light toward the ceiling. It hung there, illuminating the entire room.

The twins sat on the couch, while O'Bannon and Angelina took the chairs. O'Bannon used his wand to move the table to the middle of the room, them placed some quills and pieces of parchment on it.

"Okay, gang. Let's get down to business."

The meeting took up most of the afternoon. Some choices on who to keep and who to cut proved easy. Others, not so much. A few times personal feelings clouded their decisions. That's when Angelina would say that hard choices needed to be made if they wanted the best team possible.

They agonized, they debated, once or twice they argued, but in the end they came up with the twenty players they felt gave them the best chance at beating Slytherin.

When the four of them entered the Great Hall for dinner, O'Bannon told the hockey club members to gather outside the Charms classroom after breakfast tomorrow. There he would meet individually with each player to tell them if they made the final roster or not.

He had a hard time sleeping that night, thinking about the kids he had to cut. Many had worked very hard every day at practice, but just didn't have it when it came to talent. Some had become good friends. Would they remain friends after he cut them?

O'Bannon sighed as he stared up at the darkened ceiling of his room. How many kids had their hearts set on making the team and facing Slytherin? He was going to stomp on their dreams. He was going to stare them right in the face and tell them they weren't good enough.

That made him feel like the biggest asshole in the world. He wondered if some of the NHL's legendary coaches like Scotty Bowman, Al Arbour and Jack Adams had felt this way when they had to cut players.

_If they did, I guess they sucked it up and did what they had to do, considering all the Stanley Cups they won._

_That's what you'll have to do, Jimmy._

Easier said than done.

**XXXXX**

O'Bannon barely ate anything at breakfast the next morning. He didn't speak to anyone, either, and most students at the Gryffindor table kept their distance from him, especially the hockey club members. They were probably just as nervous as him.

_I doubt it, since I'm the one who has to give 'em the bad news._

Eventually, the food and plates disappeared from the table, signaling the end of breakfast. He wiped his sweaty palms on his robes as he got up from the table and left the Great Hall without a word.

His pace slowed as he neared the Charms classroom.

_I really don't want to do this._

_That's sports for you. People make the team or they get cut. It's always been that way._

O'Bannon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _You can do this._

Exhaling, he entered the classroom and closed the door. He sat at Professor Flitwick's desk and laid out the parchment with the names of each hockey club member. Soon he heard the sounds of people gathering outside.

_Let's get this over with._

O'Bannon grabbed the parchment with the names of his prospective forwards and defensemen. He closed his eyes, circled his quill over the parchment, then brought it down. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and saw the name it landed on.

Pointing his wand at his throat to amplify his voice, O'Bannon called out, "Valko Velich."

The Durmstrang student entered the classroom and took a seat in front of the desk. If he was nervous, he didn't show it. Then again, the guy always had a stony expression. Who knew what he was thinking?

"Morning, Valko."

"Jimmy."

"Well, I just want to tell you that I've always been impressed with your work ethic. You do what we ask, you don't slack off, you don't cause any problems. Also, it can't be easy doing this with your headmaster constantly giving you crap about playing hockey."

Velich shrugged. "He has his view on this hockey. It does not bother me."

O'Bannon nodded. What he wouldn't give for Velich's cool right now.

"I'm glad to hear that. Thing is, man, while you've been working hard, you haven't been scoring many goals. You're also not a very fast skater, or an agile one."

"I understand. This hockey is a fast game."

"Yeah, but, dude, you're a freakin' hulk."

Velich furrowed his brow. "I am not understanding."

"I mean, you're huge. Your muscles have muscles, for crying out loud. Hockey teams need guys like you. Slytherin's got some big guys on their team, guys who can knock around most of the players we have. We need someone like you to even the score. You're what we call an enforcer. So congratulations, you made the team."

Surprise flashed through Velich's eyes for a second. He nodded and shook O'Bannon's hand.

"Thank you, Jimmy. I shall be a good enforcer."

"I don't doubt that."

O'Bannon let out a sigh as Velich left the room. That had gone well.

That wouldn't be the case with his next student.

His quill landed on the name Isolda Gellius, a Sixth Year Ravenclaw who had tried to make her house Quidditch team the previous two years, and failed both times.

"Um, Isolda . . . um, you worked really hard at practice and you never caused any trouble. But there are other players who are . . . well, they did . . . well. So, um, I'm sorry, but . . . you didn't make the team."

Isolda buried her face in her hands and cried. "But I tried so hard. I always try hard. First Quidditch, now this."

Her cries became louder. O'Bannon shifted in his chair, the veins in his neck sticking out as he tried to figure out how to handle this.

"Um . . . uh . . . I'm sorry, Isolda."

The Ravenclaw girl didn't say anything. She just hurried out of the room, bawling her eyes out.

_Damn. _O'Bannon slumped in his chair. This was not going to be a fun day.

Three more female players he cut also left the room in tears. Each one made him feel more and more like a heartless bastard.

_It's not personal. You're just trying to put together the best team possible._

That didn't make it any easier. He wondered if Scotty Bowman or Al Arbour ever had to deal with reactions like that when they cut players in the NHL.

Not every meeting ended badly. He did get to tell Seamus Finnigan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Anthony Goldstein they made the team.

Then there was Colin Creevey. The always smiling, always cheerful Colin Creevey. This was one meeting he would have loved to pawn off to Angelina or the Weasley twins.

_You're the captain. This is your job._

"Colin, um, I know you've been with us from the beginning, and I appreciate everything you've done for the club. But . . . but, um, there are some other people who's performances at training camp were . . . very good. I'm sorry, but you didn't make the team."

Unbelievably, Colin smiled. "That's okay, Jimmy. I've never been the best at sports. Oi! Maybe I can hang around you lot and take pictures, and Dennis can help, too. I'm pretty sure he won't make it. He's not very athletic, either. We can be the official team photographers, if that's cool with you."

"Um, sure. No prob. You guys got the job."

"Cool. Thanks, Jimmy."

Colin bounded out of the classroom with a huge smile.

_Wish they were all that easy._

The meetings continued. Katie Bell, Terry Boot, Dean Thomas and Radomir Tortorov from Durmstrang all made the team. So did Mireet Miradeaux. He figured some kids would think it was because they'd gone to the Yule Ball together. Well, if they couldn't see the fact Mireet was a phenomenal athlete, that was their problem, not his.

Other boys and girls took their cuts in any number of ways, from typical British reserve to disappointment – as was the case with Jimmy Peakes - to more tears. Ginny Weasley and Ernie MacMillan both appeared nervous when they entered the classroom. Not that they had reason to be. Ginny's speed, shooting skills and toughness made her a no-brainer for the team. Even though you could time Ernie with a sun dial, what he lacked in speed he made up for with his puck handling and passing skills. He made the final cut, too, as did Michael Corner, Gordon Summerby, a rather agile skater from Hufflepuff, and Stanimir Kurdzeli, another good enforcer-type.

With the skaters done, all he had left were the five goalie candidates. This time, he didn't use his quill to randomly select one.

"Cormac McLaggen."

McLaggen strutted into the room. He flopped into the chair in front of O'Bannon and folded his arms, an arrogant smile on his face.

"You're cut."

A baffled expression came over McLaggen. "I beg your pardon."

"You're cut. You're not on the team."

McLaggen just stared at him, mouth agape. "Are you barking mad? I'm the best goalie you've got."

"Yeah, you are. I'd bet anything you'd pitch a shutout against Slytherin. The problem is, your attitude sucks. You think you're God's gift to hockey, and you're not afraid to tell it to everyone. Whenever you do let a puck through, it's everyone else's fault except yours. Nobody on the team likes you, and while talent is important, so is chemistry. This club has become pretty tight-knit, with one exception. You. I've seen how one athlete with a piss-poor attitude can destroy a locker room, and I'm not gonna let that happen here. So you're cut."

"Really? You're really cutting me?" McLaggen let out a sardonic laugh. "Yank, you have got to be the thickest wizard on the planet? Without me, you won't win."

"Yes we will, because we're going to have a team that will support each other, on and off the ice."

"This isn't a social club. This is a sports club. Everyone getting along and having a cheery old time won't win you that game. I will. You think Weasley or Jordan have a prayer of stopping any puck that comes their way? Harkorth is barely adequate and Susan Bones is a joke."

"But they don't yell at their teammates when they let in a puck."

"Well if those incompetent wankers would do their job -"

"Okay, that's it. I'm done with you putting down _my _teammates. You're cut, McLaggen. Cut!"

McLaggen's face scrunched in anger. "Fine, then. Lose to the Slytherins, if that's what you want. See how fast all your friends drop you -"

"Get out! Now!"

McLaggen shot out of his seat. "You're the biggest idiot I've ever met. Not only that, but you're jealous, because you know I'm ten times the athlete you'll ever be!"

O'Bannon yanked out his wand. "You've got ten seconds to get your ass out of here, otherwise I'm gonna twist your tongue into knots, have lima beans shoot out your ears, and give you an Exploding Eyebrow Hex."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Ten."

"You're mad. Absolutely mad."

"Nine."

"I don't think you have the guts to -"

"Aw, screw it! Three, two o-"

McLaggen bolted out of the room.

O'Bannon sat back down, giving himself about five minutes to calm down before calling in Harkorth.

"I heard the yelling," said the Bulgarian, "and saw McLaggen run out of here. Things did not go well, I take it?"

"No, not well at all."

Harkorth took a seat. O'Bannon took steady breaths, trying to rid himself of the last vestiges of anger. A minute passed without him saying a word, and Harkorth looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh, you're on the team."

Harkorth smiled and sat up straighter. "Thank you, Jimmy. I know I must improve at goalie. I will work hard to do that."

"I know you will, man."

O'Bannon had to wait a couple of minutes to call in the next goalie candidate. This would probably be the toughest of his one-on-one meetings.

"Lee Jordan."

It proved almost impossible to look Lee in the eye. He was a cool guy, always cheerful, and had become a damn good friend. The final decision had been hardest for Fred and George. They'd been friends with Lee since their first day at Hogwarts.

"That's what happens when you're in charge," Angelina had said. "You have to put personal feelings aside and make hard choices."

O'Bannon sighed and forced himself to look up at Lee. "Hey, Lee. Um . . . hey, man. You've been with us from the beginning, and I'm really grateful for your support. But, um, well . . ."

"Oh don't go beating yourself up, Jimmy. Everyone knows I'm no athlete. You need your best players on the ice, and you need me where I can do the most good."

"Uh, where's that?"

"Behind the magical megaphone, of course. Just like in Quidditch. You've no idea how much I've missed calling matches, and I figured you'd want someone announcing your game to make it even more exciting."

O'Bannon couldn't help but smile. He'd heard from several students about Lee's "colorful" style of commentary.

"You want it, you got. Have fun."

"Trust me, I will."

After Lee left, O'Bannon called in Susan Bones. She nervously squeezed her left hand with her right as she sat down.

"Well, Susan, I have to be honest, you need some more work in goal."

"Mm-hmm." She nodded, a solemn look on her face, like she knew what was coming.

"But, you always work hard, you don't get upset when you let in a goal, and you get along with everyone. I think with some more practice, you'll make a solid goalie. So congratulations. You made the team."

Susan's jaw dropped. A smile spread across her face. "Jimmy, thank you. Thank you, so much. Trust me, I will practice more. I want to beat Slytherin as much as anyone else."

They shook hands, and Susan left the classroom in a cheerier mood than when she entered.

That left just one more person.

"Ron Weasley."

Ron entered with his head down and his shoulders sagging. O'Bannon tried not to frown. As moody as Ron could be, he was a pretty decent guy. And he did feel for him. With everything his older brothers had accomplished, with a famous best friend in Harry Potter, and with a brainiac like Hermione Granger always hanging around, he must feel like the odd-man out. In a way, Ron reminded him somewhat of Artimus, only with a better family. He desperately wanted to carve out his own niche, do something to stand out, like play goalie for the hockey team.

_And I'm about to crap all over him._

"Hey, Ron. Um, look, I appreciate you coming out, and . . ."

Ron slouched in his seat, looking more miserable by the second.

O'Bannon sighed. _No sense in prolonging the suffering, I guess._

"I'm sorry, Ron, but you didn't make the team."

"Yeah, of course I didn't," he muttered. "Thanks."

Ron pushed himself out of the chair and trudged out of the room. O'Bannon watched him leave in silence.

_That wasn't fun._

None of the cuts had been fun. But they had to be done. As Angelina said, people in charge had to make tough choices.

He tried to put the negative experiences of the cuts out of his mind and focus on the positive aspect of the day, that being they now had an official 20-player roster.

_Now for the big one. What do we call ourselves?_

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE:<strong> _Apologies for the delay between chapters. I spent much of February finishing up the first draft of an original manuscript, and doing promotion for my new original novel DARK WINGS, which is available from Amazon and as an e-book at Smashwords._


	37. The Name Game

**CHAPTER 37: THE NAME GAME**

* * *

><p>"What do we call ourselves?" George asked O'Bannon at breakfast the next morning. "You mean the Hogwarts Hockey Club isn't good enough?"<p>

"C'mon, man, we need a real name, like the Bruins or the Devils or the Flames, something like that."

"Besides, it wouldn't be appropriate to call ourselves the Hogwarts Hockey Club," said Katie.

"And why's that?" Fred looked to her as he cut into a sausage link. "We're a hockey club and we're at Hogwarts. Makes sense to me."

"How about the fact we have a witch from Beauxbatons and four wizards from Durmstrang on the team? Plus, Jimmy is only here as an exchange student from Salem. We don't want anyone to feel excluded."

"Katie's got a point." O'Bannon nodded to her. "We need a name that's unifying, that everyone can rally around."

"So any ideas?" asked Lee.

"Nope. That's why we're gonna have a meeting after dinner tonight, so we can come up with one."

O'Bannon took a swig of his pumpkin juice when dozens of owls flew through the Great Hall with the morning mail. Mom and Dad sent him some clippings from _The Boston Globe _on Red Sox spring training. He also received a letter from Rosa, Jared and Artimus. Rosa wrote that she and Gregory Lancemore broke up.

_I can't believe I fell for all his charm. I don't think it's possible for him to love anyone more than he loves himself._

O'Bannon frowned, but knew from past experience Rosa would rebound quickly.

Jared wanted to know if he'd met any other hot witches at Hogwarts. He sighed and glanced over at Mireet at the Ravenclaw table.

Artimus said he was doing well in all his classes – though his father told him he should be doing better – adding he hoped everything was going well with the hockey club.

When breakfast ended, he went around to the hockey club members at the other tables, informing them of the meeting. He caught up with the four Hufflepuffs on the team – Ernie, Susan, Justin and Summerby – just as they exited the Great Hall.

"Be sure to hang around after dinner tonight. We're gonna have a meeting to decide what to name our team."

"That should be easy," said a familiar, snide voice behind them. "Just call yourselves Mudblood and Blood Traitor Losers."

O'Bannon and the Hufflepuffs turned around to find Malfoy smirking at them. Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, while Pansy Parkinson stood off to the side.

"I don't recall anyone asking for your worthless opinion, you ferret-faced little prick," O'Bannon countered.

Malfoy's head quaked in anger. Crabbe and Goyle glared at him and cracked their knuckles.

O'Bannon stood his ground, as did his Hufflepuff friends.

Malfoy thrust out his chin. "You just wait till June. We're getting better every day. Not surprising. Hockey's like a baby's game compared to Quidditch. When our match comes around, we'll embarrass all of you. We'll even be better dressed than you. My father has a stake in the ownership of the Banchory Bangers -"

"Oh yes." Justin cut him off. "The team that doesn't accept Muggle-born players, if I'm correct."

Malfoy scowled at him before continuing. "As I was saying, Father has contacted the witch who designed the Bangers robes, and she'll be making our uniforms for the hockey match. Where are you getting your uniforms from? The Weasleys donating some old potato sacks. Wait, can they even afford potato sacks?"

The Slytherins all laughed.

"For your information, Malfoy," Ernie stepped forward, "my parents have volunteered to pay for our uniforms and equipment. They seem to think learning about Muggle culture is a worthwhile endeavor."

"Bah!" Malfoy gave him a dismissive wave. "What do your parents know? They've always fawned over that old fool Dumbledore. You MacMillans may _almost _be as wealthy as my family, but you're just as much a disgrace to the Wizarding World as the Weasleys."

To O'Bannon's surprise, Ernie laughed. "That's rich, coming from you. No one in my family ran around with little snakes drawn on their arms and extolling the virtues of You-Know-Who during the war, unlike your family. So which of us is the disgrace?"

Malfoy's face tightened in fury.

"Dude, burn!" O'Bannon grinned and high-fived Ernie.

"Like I care what a bloody Hufflepuff has to say about me," Malfoy spat. "Your house is nothing but a great joke."

"Yet we have a champion in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and Slytherin doesn't." Ernie smiled with pride.

O'Bannon barked out a laugh. "Dude, double-burn! Malfoy, you better quit while you're behind."

Malfoy looked ready to explode. Both Crabbe and Goyle's shoulders rose and fell with angry breaths.

Before anything could happen, Professor Flitwick appeared and shooed them off to class. O'Bannon glanced at Ernie as they neared the staircase.

_Who said Hufflepuffs have no backbone?_

**XXXXX**

After dinner, as many of the students filed out of the Great Hall, O'Bannon and the other hockey club members gathered at the Gryffindor table. This also included their "support staff," meaning Lee Jordan, the Creevey brothers, and Alicia Spinnet. Even though she had fully recovered from the effects of the Blue Dreariums, it would take her a while to get back into playing shape, and longer still to get used to playing hockey instead of Quidditch. No way would she be ready for their game in June. But since Alicia wanted to become a mediwitch after graduation, O'Bannon made her team trainer.

"Okay, gang," he said once everyone was settled. "Now that we've got our roster set, it's time to come up with an actual name for our team. So let's start throwing out ideas, and keep in mind, we should probably have a name that shows how a bunch of wizards and witches from different houses, different schools and different countries can come together and be united in a common cause."

"Well there you have it, then," said Terry Boot.

O'Bannon tilted his head. "What are you talking about?"

"There's the perfect name right there. The United."

A doubtful look formed on Dean's face. "I don't know. There's loads of Muggle football teams that call themselves United. West Ham United." He flashed a smile at mentioning his favorite team. "Newcastle United, Leeds United, Sheffield United, Peterborough United . . . bloody effing Manchester United."

While not a soccer fan, even O'Bannon knew of Manchester United. Basically, they were to British soccer what the New York Yankees were to American baseball. You either loved them or you despised them. Dean was definitely the latter.

"We even have a United in the Quidditch League," Alicia pointed out. "Oliver Wood's team, Puddlemere United."

"Okay," O'Bannon said. "So basically, the United, not a very original name. Any other ideas?"

Several seconds passed before Michael Corner spoke. "I've got it. The Chimeras. You know, they've got three heads, and there are students from three schools on our team."

Tortorov shook his head. "No. Chimeras I do not like. An uncle of mine was killed by one."

"Sorry about that, mate," George said. "I guess that name's out, too."

The players continued to throw out and debate more names. Fred came up with The Ice Lords, which O'Bannon thought was a cool-ass name. But Angelina and Mireet pointed out that Ice Lords had nothing to do with the diverse make-up of their team, so the captain got overruled. Velich suggested The Gestalt. Most of the players, including O'Bannon, had no idea what that meant.

"A Gestalt is a structure made up of many individual parts, yet it functions as a single entity," Velich explained.

Anthony Goldstein thought it an appropriate name. Then again, O'Bannon expected one of the Ravenclaws to dig The Gestalt. For him and the rest of the team, the name was way too intellectual.

Summerby, considered on of the best Astronomy students at Hogwarts, suggested The Constellations.

"Think about it. You have several stars that make up a single formation. The same principle applies to our team, in a manner of speaking."

Many players made faces and shook their heads. O'Bannon also wasn't too keen on The Constellations. It was just way too out there.

More names followed. So did more rejections. The Tri-Wizards from Susan Bones. The Yetis from Lee Jordan. The Puck Parliament from Justin Finch-Fletchley. The Ice Alliance from Katie Bell. It went on and on for the next hour-and-a-half. Frustration set in. Tempers flared. O'Bannon decided to end the meeting before someone drew a wand. They pick this up again tomorrow.

_Merlin's beard, I can't believe this is so friggin' hard._

It was just a name. No, it couldn't be just a name. It had to be the right name. One that people would remember. One that defined them as a team.

O'Bannon headed back to his dorm room, trying to finish his Transfiguration and Potions homework. Many times he paused, thinking back to all the names that the club had brought up. He reviewed the ones that had a group connotation. Alliance. Parliament. United. Even The Gestalt. None of them seemed . . . powerful enough.

He reconsidered Susan's idea. The Tri-Wizards. O'Bannon, and many others, thought that was just stealing from the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

But hadn't Dumbledore convinced those jagoffs from the Ministry of Magic to have the hockey game connected to the Tri-Wizard Tournament, as an embodiment of the spirit of international magical cooperation? Maybe Tri-Wizards wouldn't be such a bad idea?

_But it still sounds like we're stealing the name._

Or maybe he could just use the first part somehow. Tri. Tri meant three.

_So what words have "tri" in them?_

Triumph came to mind, but to name a team that sounded way too arrogant.

Triangle, but who the hell would call their team The Triangles?

But wasn't there a similar sort of word for triangle? Something that sounded much cooler?

_Yeah. Triad. _He recalled the word from one of Dad's Tom Clancy novels he'd read. It referred to the US nuclear triad, the combination of land, sea and air-launched weapons, all used in concert in the event of war.

_Triad._

He leaned back in his chair, a smile growing on his face.

_Triad._

**XXXXX**

After his morning run and a quick shower, O'Bannon rushed down to the Great Hall. He gathered up his Durmstrang and Hufflepuff players from their tables before going over to Mireet, Michael, Terry and Anthony at the Ravenclaw table.

"Guys, guys! C'mon. I got something to show you."

"Mate, I'm still eating," Terry said as he chewed.

"Then just bring your plate. This is important. C'mon."

Mireet and the Ravenclaw trio followed him, all with curious looks on their faces.

"So what's so bloody important you have to interrupt my breakfast?" Terry demanded.

"I got it."

"Got what? Spattergroit?" Fred chuckled at his little joke, as did George. Several of the witches around him turned up their faces in disgust.

"No, you pillock," O'Bannon snapped.

Fred did a double-take. "Hang on. Did you just call me a pillock?"

O'Bannon blinked. "Oh my God. I did. Damn, I think I've been in this country way too long. I'm starting to talk like you people."

"That's not such a bad thing," said Fred.

"Maybe now you'll actually be able to use the letter 'r'," George remarked.

"Ha-ha, very funny . . . not."

"Quit joking around," said Angelina. "I want to know what's got Jimmy so excited."

"Like I said, I got it. The name for our team." He pulled out a piece of parchment and plunked it down on the table. Everyone leaned in for a better look.

"Triad?" Ginny read it aloud.

"Yup. Triad. I think it's perfect. The name's short, it's got some punch, and it perfectly describes us. Wizards and witches from three schools – Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and Hogwarts – all coming together for a single purpose. To kick Slytherin's ass in hockey."

He gazed around at the team. "So, what do you think?"

A few seconds of silence passed. Apprehension crept through O'Bannon. He wondered if this name would get shot down like all the others.

"I think it is very appropriate," Mireet said.

Her comment sent a swooping sensation through his chest.

Alicia, Seamus and Kurdzeli nodded.

"I think it's pretty cool," said Corner.

"It's better than anything we've come up with so far," George noted.

"Okay." O'Bannon clapped his hands together. "Let's put it to a vote. All in favor of calling ourselves the Triad, raise your hands."

Most everyone's hand went up, the exceptions being Velich, Ernie and Terry, but as they stared at the others, they seemed resigned to defeat.

"Well, I guess it's official. Ladies and gentlemen, we are now officially, the Triad."

Many of the players smiled and nodded, giving brief cheers or saying, "Yeah."

Out the corner of his eye, O'Bannon noticed Ron looking their way. He frowned, slumped his shoulders and pushed his food around his plate. Hermione gave Ron a dirty look, then leaned in and said something to Ron. He appeared to ignore it.

O'Bannon couldn't help but feel bad for Ron. He hoped Fred and George's younger brother would get over being cut and realize it hadn't been anything personal.

_Maybe not for you, but for him it's a different story._

"Well if we're a proper team, we're going to need a logo," said Justin.

"Leave that to me." Dean tapped his chest. "I'll try to come up with something by tomorrow. Oh, Jimmy. Could I borrow that hockey book of yours, the one with all the photos?"

"You mean _NHL History in Pictures?_ Yeah, sure. I'll give it to you at lunch."

For the rest of the day, O'Bannon had to force himself to concentrate on his school work. He was anxious to see what Dean would come up with. If the banner he made of Cedric Diggory running around with his hair on fire was any indication, the Triad logo would be wicked pissah.

The next day before practice, Dean marched down to the hockey pond carrying several pieces of parchment, a huge smile on his face.

"I take it by that smile you've come up with our new logo?" asked Terry.

"That I did, and a few ideas for our uniforms, thanks to Jimmy's book. Tell me what you think."

Dean took out his wand and suspended the parchment in the air. O'Bannon and the rest of the team gathered around, staring at the first one in line.

"This is very good, Dean," said Mireet. "You are a very talented artist."

"Thanks." Dean straightened up and, incredibly, smiled wider.

"Yeah, I like this." Anthony nodded, looking impressed.

O'Bannon folded his arms and looked at the logo Dean came up with. It had two hockey sticks and a wand forming a triangle, with each point bearing the crest of one of the three schools. In the center of the triangle was a large bronze-looking "T" with the word TRIAD underneath it.

"I'm sold on it. Awesome job, Dean."

The other players nodded or voiced their approval. Next, Dean showed them uniform designs, most of the color schemes and patterns based on NHL jerseys, but with the Triad logo in the center.

"Mind you," Dean said. "I ruled out anything that had green or silver in it. I didn't think we'd want to go around wearing Slytherin colors."

"Good thinking," said Fred. "I'd sooner cover myself in Stinksap than wear Slytherin colors."

Everyone looked over the designs. The first one had been based on the old Ottawa Senators uniform from the 1920s, with its black, orange and white-lined pattern. From the facial reactions of many of the players, him included, the design didn't go over well.

O'Bannon had a more favorable opinion of the design based on the Pittsburgh Penguins uniform, since they had the same colors, gold and black, as his beloved Bruins. The rest of the Triad, however, seemed split on the matter.

The reaction to the purple and gold color scheme based on the Los Angeles Kings uniform from the 1970s was universal.

"I wouldn't be caught dead in something that hideous." Katie summed up everyone's feelings, considering how most everyone nodded in agreement.

The next uniform resembled that of the Quebec Nordiques, light blue with white trim and small castle designs around the waist line where the _fleurs-de-lis _would normally be. Not bad, though not many players got excited over it.

Then they came to the last design.

"This one I like." Harkorth pointed at it.

"Yeah." Ginny nodded. "This looks really cool."

"I'll second that," said Corner, who immediately received a beaming smile from Ginny.

O'Bannon gazed at the design, which was a black jersey with gold and red trim similar to the Vancouver Canucks. He'd always thought they had some of the coolest uniforms in the NHL. Not as cool as the Bruins, of course, but still cool.

"I got no problem wearing that. How about the rest of you guys?"

Many of the other players answered with nods or "yeahs."

O'Bannon called for a vote. Susan, Tortorov, Mireet and Katie were the only ones not in favor of the uniform.

"Sorry, guys," O'Bannon said. "Majority rules."

"If I may." Mireet raised her hand. "Perhaps we can incorporate the small castles Dean had on those blue uniforms onto this one."

O'Bannon looked around at the players. Many shrugged or nodded, but no one dissented.

The next day, Dean took his final design of the Triad uniform to Ernie, who owled it to his parents.

Then came the waiting. One week. Two weeks. Had it not been for all the homework and practices, O'Bannon would have gone insane dying to see their uniforms for real. But even in the magical world, some things took time.

On the last Friday of April, the Triad was headed off the ice, with O'Bannon noticing Michael Corner and Ginny Weasley laughing over something and briefly pressing their shoulders together – _is there something going on with those two? – _when Professor Burbage hurried across the grounds, levitating dozens of packages with her wand.

"Oh good, good. You're still here. I was afraid I'd miss you. All this was owled to my office by Mister MacMillan's parents."

"Our uniforms!" Dean exclaimed. "It must be!"

"All right!" Ginny cheered.

"About time," Fred said jokingly. "I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever see them."

Professor Burbage levitated the packages toward the players, each one bearing their name. O'Bannon got his package and tore it open.

Excitement rushed through him. He held the jersey in front of him, grinning ear-to-ear. He gripped it tighter, just to convince himself this was real.

O'Bannon turned the jersey around. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he stared at his name and number emblazoned in gold. O'BANNON 4. The same number he wore for Blazenrowe Hall back at Salem. The same number as Bruins legend Bobby Orr.

Not only did Ernie's parents send them their uniforms, but their pads, sticks, helmets, skates and additional pucks.

"Look, Jimmy." A grinning Terry put on his jersey and looked it over with pride. "Is this cool or what? It's like we're a real team now."

O'Bannon looked around, bursting with joy as he watched his friends looking at their uniforms, putting them on, or talking excitedly about them.

He turned back to Terry and slapped him on the shoulder. "No, man. We were a real team long before now."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	38. Eve of Battle

**CHAPTER 38: EVE OF BATTLE**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon felt a quick knot of tension in his shoulders when he looked at his wall calendar.<p>

May 8th. Exactly one month left until the Triad/Slytherin hockey game.

_My God, I can't believe it's almost here, _he thought as he put on his sweats and headed outside for his morning run. By now he had a fair idea which positions everyone was best suited to play. Fred and George, no surprise, had turned into a standout defensive pairing. While Angelina had played Chaser for Gryffindor's Quidditch team, given her size and willingness to get in anyone's face, O'Bannon felt she'd serve the Triad better as a defenseman. On the flip side, Mireet, who played Beater for her team back at Beauxbatons, had the speed, agility and shooting prowess that made her better suited as a forward. He'd also pegged Justin, Gordon and Tortorov as defensemen, with the others filling out the center and winger positions.

Now it was just a matter of putting together the offensive lines. O'Bannon had already decided on his fourth line, the checking line. Velich and Kurdzeli, "The Durmstrang Tanks" he liked to call them, would play the wings with Seamus, who wasn't afraid to mix it up, at center. The remaining three lines, as well as the last two defensive tandems, he still needed to figure out.

_Better do it soon. You only have a month left._

_A month left._

After showering and changing into his school robes, O'Bannon went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He just took a bite of his fried eggs when owls soared over the tables. One of them dropped an envelope in his hands. It had come from Rosa, Jared and Artimus.

_Jimmy,_

_I hope everything's going well. You must be excited with your hockey game with those Slytherin dipsticks over a month away._

His jaw clenched for a moment as he continued reading Rosa's message.

_Speaking of the hockey game, you're not going to believe this. You made The All-Seeing Eye! They did a little article on you and your hockey game there in Britain. They even talked to Jared and me about it. I sent along a copy of the article to you, and my mom and dad also sent a copy to your parents._

O'Bannon reached back into the envelope and pulled out the article.

"Yo, check this out." He held it up. "They're talking about our game back in US."

"Cool," said Fred and George.

"So what does it say?" Dean leaned closer.

"Hang on." Ginny stood up. "Let me get the others. They'll want to hear this, too."

A couple of minutes later the Triad members from the other houses and schools had gathered around the Gryffindor table. O'Bannon happened to catch Cormac McLaggen pointedly turning his back on them all. Apparently he still hadn't gotten over being cut from the Triad.

_Too damn bad._

He also noticed Ron frowning and staring at his food. His mood always soured whenever anyone mentioned the hockey game around him.

"C'mon, Jimmy." Terry tapped O'Bannon's shoulder. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"All right. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He furrowed his brow. Was it him, or were more British phrases slipping into his vocabulary?

He shook it off and read the article aloud.

**SALEM STUDENT INTRODUCES RENOWN WIZARDING SCHOOL TO MUGGLE GAME.**

_Quidditch, broom racing and Gobstones are common games at Britain's Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But soon the thousand year old magical institution will host another game. Not just any game. This one was created by Muggles._

_On June 8th, Hogwarts will be the site of the first ever hockey game in Wizarding Britain. For those not familiar with this sport, hockey has teams of six players, including a keeper, who skate around a patch of ice trying to shoot a little rubber disc into a net._

_This special exhibition match is the brainchild of Jimmy O'Bannon, a Sixth Year student at the Salem Witches Institute who is currently at Hogwarts on an exchange program._

"_I think this is a great way to give more wizards and witches a first-hand look at Muggle culture," said Rosa Infante, a friend of O'Bannon's from Salem. "He's helped me appreciate the things the Muggle World has to offer. It's good he can do this for so many other in our world."_

"_It pleases me to see Jimmy taking full advantage of the opportunity awarded to him," said Salem Headmistress Athena Esmeralda. "Not only is he immersing himself in the culture of another country, he's also giving back to Hogwarts with this hockey game. It's the perfect way to give our world a better understanding and appreciation of Muggles, which is greatly needed after what happened during the war with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."_

_The hockey game features O'Bannon and a collection of students from three of Hogwarts' houses – Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff – along with a handful of students from France's Beauxbatons Academy and Eastern Europe's Durmstrang Institute, versus a team from Hogwarts' fourth house, Slytherin. As for how the game will turn out, Jared Diaz, another friend of O'Bannon's from Salem, says. "Jimmy's a wicked awesome player. He and his buds [friends] there in Britain are going to kick Slytherins' [behinds]."_

_Hockey is played at Salem, one of the few schools in the Wizarding World with a sanctioned league for Muggle sports. The game takes place in conjunction with the third and final task of the resurrected Tri-Wizard Tournament, which is scheduled for June 24th._

The article included a picture of O'Bannon in his Blazenrowe Hall hockey uniform.

"Very nice picture, Jimmy," commented Alicia. "You look quite handsome. Don't you think?" She glanced over at Mireet, who stood on the opposite side of the table.

O'Bannon looked up at the French witch, who smiled shyly and blushed. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, thanks," he muttered.

"Oh." Katie looked down at the letter. "Looks like your friends included some juicy gossip from Salem as well."

"Katie!" Angelina gave her a disapproving look.

"What? The letter's right there on the table for the world to see."

O'Bannon read the bottom paragraphs. His eyes bulged. "You gotta be kiddin' me."

"Okay, now I'm actually interested," Fred said.

"What is it?" asked Ginny.

"Rana Rollingsworth and Darius Forten broke up."

"Who are they?" Susan inquired.

"She's the Seeker for my dorm's Quidditch team and he's one of the Beaters. It says Rana caught him in the dorm trophy room making out with Ivy Chatham. Damn. They were together for two years. And he cheated on her with Ivy Chatham. I mean that girl's a . . ." He gazed at the witches around him. "Uh, well she's, you know?"

"A bint."

Everyone swung their heads toward Ginny, a few with their mouths agape.

"Where did you learn that word?" said Fred.

"Mum would cast a Scrubbing Charm on your tongue if she heard you say that," warned George.

"Well, she's not here now, is she?" Ginny narrowed her eyes. "And you'd best not blab it to her, if you know what's good for you."

Fred and George looked at one another, winced, and nodded. Despite her young age and small size, O'Bannon had learned over the past few months that Ginny Weasley, at times, could be downright terrifying.

It made him wonder if he should have put her on the checking line with the Durmstrang Tanks.

"Well," Alicia began, "hopefully her next boyfriend will treat her better than this Darius wanker."

O'Bannon hoped so, too. Rana was a nice girl, and deserved better.

**XXXXX**

Over the next couple of weeks, the Triad/Slytherin hockey match garnered more publicity. Both the _Daily Prophet_ and Wizarding Wireless Network News sent sports reporters to Hogwarts. O'Bannon didn't detect any "slime factor" from either reporter as he had with friggin' Rita Skeeter. Both of them also produced good and fair stories on the game, though O'Bannon had to shake his head when he read the article in the _Prophet. _Cornelius Fudge had been quoted as saying, "This, er, stick and disc game at Hogwarts is yet another example of my tireless efforts to show that Great Britain is at the forefront of the Wizarding World when it comes to respect and tolerance of Muggle-borns, and the Muggle culture they hail from."

_This from the guy who tried to stop us from having this game. _While he wasn't one to tell the Brits how to run their own affairs, he had to admit this country would be better off with someone else as Minister of Magic.

_Witch Weekly_ also sent a reporter to Hogwarts to do an article on the game. When O'Bannon read it, he noticed they spent more time talking about the Triad's uniforms than anything else. They called the color scheme of their jerseys, "atrocious," and that they, "clashed horribly with players whose hair was blond."

_Who the hell cares about that? _This was hockey, not a friggin' fashion show.

On May 25th, fourteen days before the game, O'Bannon and several other Gryffindors were in the common room when Lee called out, "Oi! They're talking about us on the wireless."

Everyone gathered around the set, where the two men who hosted _The Wizarding Sport Roundtable _argued about the hockey game at Hogwarts.

"It's a monumental waste of time, Benton. How can any non-magical sport compare to the thrill of Quidditch? You can't even fly over the ice."

"Why don't you give it a chance, Farley. I dated a Muggle-born when I was at Hogwarts, and one summer she and her family took me to this basketball game, and it was rather entertaining. The same might be true of this hockey sport."

"That won't happen, old chap. You mark my words."

"But you can't deny that this game is getting a lot of publicity. Mark _my_ words, Farley, come the Eighth of June, the eyes of Wizarding Britain, perhaps the entire Wizarding World, will be on Hogwarts and this ice sport of hockey."

"Wow." Dean smiled wide and looked to O'Bannon. "You hear that, Jimmy? The eyes of the Wizarding World will be on us."

"Yeah. Great."

**XXXXX**

Over the next couple of days O'Bannon received a few letters wishing him good luck. Two came from Rosa's parents and Jared's parents. Another came from his mom and dad, with mom sending along a tin of her awesome lemon squares, which he shared with the entire team.

On May 29th, ten days before the game, O'Bannon received a rolled up package from Salem during breakfast. When he and the twins unfurled it, it stretched out nearly ten feet.

"Whoa." Dean gaped at it. "That is seriously cool."

The snow white banner had the words GOOD LUCK JIMMY & TRIAD exploding in brilliant colors, fading, then exploding again. Wallet-sized moving photographs had been attached all over banner, the person in each one holding up a handmade sign with their well wishes.

O'Bannon smiled, a warm feeling spreading through him as he gazed at the boys, girls and teachers he hadn't seen in, Merlin's beard, almost ten months now!

Much as he enjoyed it here at Hogwarts, he did miss everyone back at Salem.

"So that's Rana Rollingsworth," Katie pointed at the photo, which had Rana's name written above it. "The one who's slimy boyfriend cheated on her."

"Yup, that's her," O'Bannon answered.

"Blimey, she's fit." Lee nodded approvingly.

"I'll tell you who's really fit." George tapped his finger on another photograph. "Your friend Rosa Infante here. Hmm. I might have to see if I can spend next term at Salem."

O'Bannon chuckled softly, trying to imagine Rosa and George together.

"We've got to hang this up," Terry suggested.

"But where?" asked Susan. "It wouldn't be fair to put it in one of the common rooms."

"Why don't we hang it here in the Great Hall?" said Ginny. "I'm sure Dumbledore wouldn't mind."

"He may not, but others might." Seamus glared over at the Slytherin table. "What's to keep those plonkers from doing something to it?"

"Don't worry," Fred said. "We'll make sure nothing happens to the banner, won't we, George?"

"Absolutely, Fred."

The twins grinned at one another.

As expected, Headmaster Dumbledore gave them permission to hang the banner in the Great Hall, which they did during lunch. When dinner time rolled around, O'Bannon approached the Great Hall with Fred, George, Lee and Angelina. Just as they entered, Ares Urquhart and Millicent Bulstrode walked passed them. Both Slytherins sported bright orange toucan beaks, facial warts and elephant ears.

"Off to the hospital wing with you," said Headmaster Dumbledore, who stood by the archway. "Madam Pomfrey will have you right as rain in no time."

O'Bannon looked at Urquhart and Bulstrode, then turned back to Dumbledore. "What happened to them?"

"It would appear Mister Urquhart and Miss Bulstrode attempted to hex the banner you and your friends hung in the Great Hall earlier today. For some reason, the hex backfired and resulted in, well, what you just saw. You wouldn't happen to know how that could have happened, would you?" He cast his gaze on the Weasley twins.

Fred shrugged. "No idea, Professor."

"They must not be very good at casting hexes, I imagine," George added.

Dumbledore paused for a moment. "Yes, perhaps you're right, Mister Weasley. Well, enjoy your supper."

The old headmaster headed back to the staff table with a twinkle in his eye.

O'Bannon turned to the twins, who were grinning wide. "You guys rule."

"We know," Fred and George both replied.

They all sat at the Gryffindor table and dug in, or "tucked in" as the Brits said. When O'Bannon finished dinner, he reached for a blackberry cobbler when an owl swooped down and dropped a letter in front of him. It was followed by another owl. Another. Another.

"Well someone's popular tonight," Fred joked as another owl delivered another letter to O'Bannon.

"Who's sending you all these letters?" asked Katie.

He checked the envelopes. "They're all from the US, but I don't know any of these people."

He opened one from a Roy Davis, who lived in Independence, Missouri.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I saw the article about you in The All-Seeing Eye about how you put together a hockey game at Hogwarts. I'm also a Muggle-born, and I think what you're doing is great. Too many in the Wizarding World think our Muggle heritage is not worth knowing about, or that it's something to be embarrassed about. I'm glad you're doing something to bring a greater appreciation of Muggle culture to the Wizarding World. I wish you nothing but success with your hockey game._

The next letter he read was from a Bobbi Hall, a Fourth Year student at Colorado's Snowtop Mountain Magical Academy.

_I'm a Muggle-born, and I get teased a lot because of it. The kids here think Muggles have nothing to offer the Wizarding World. I'm glad you're doing something to try and change that. You're an inspiration to people like me._

All the letters were like that. Muggle-borns expressing their support of his game, one even calling him a "champion of Muggle-borns everywhere."

"Looks like you got a fan club, Jimmy Boy," Fred quipped as he looked at one of the letters.

"Next thing you know they'll be putting up statues of you," said George.

"Yeah, right," O'Bannon muttered as he stared at the letters.

**XXXXX**

The next day when the Triad gathered for practice, O'Bannon noticed not all the players were present.

"Hey. Where's Seamus at?"

"He's got detention with Snape," Dean answered. "The greasy-haired git was on him that he didn't mix his Skin Restoration Potion right. Seamus said he put all the proper ingredients in, and Snape docked him ten points and gave him two nights detention for talking back to a teacher."

"What?" blurted Katie.

"Are you joking?" said Terry.

"Bloody wanker," George scowled.

"And of course he schedules Seamus' detention during our practice," Ernie noted. "Coincidence? I think not."

"You know what this means?" Summerby looked around at the others. "Snape'll look for any excuse to put us in detention between now and the game, maybe even on the day of the game. Anything to give Slytherin an advantage."

"Then don't give him an excuse to do it," Angelina said. "Snape's going to do everything he can to bait us up till game day. Don't fall for it. No matter what he says, just nod and say, 'Yes, Professor.' You're not going to do the team any good if you're sitting in detention on the Eighth of June."

"Angelina's right," O'Bannon said. "Just keep your mouth shut around Snape. Actually, watch what you say or do for the next week around all the teachers. I don't want anyone getting in trouble and missing the game." He then looked at Fred and George. "That also means no practical jokes."

The twins gaped at him.

"What?

"You can't be serious."

O'Bannon folded his arms and gave them a hard stare.

Fred frowned. "Oh, all right. For you, Jimmy Boy."

"And for the Triad," George added.

"What about after the game?"

"After the game, you can cover Hogwarts in pink polka dots and have butterbeer shoot out all the battlements."

Fred and George looked at one another with mischievous grins.

Angelina groaned. "Oh for Merlin's sake, don't give them any ideas."

Even without Seamus, practice went well. By the time it was over, O'Bannon had his mind made up on the remaining lines and defensive pairings. He teamed Tortorov with Angelina on defense. Justin and Summerby made up the third "D" tandem. While neither player was very big, they had good speed and a knack for mucking up the opposition's attack.

As for the offense, O'Bannon would center the first line with Katie and Dean as he wingers. Since all three were Gryffindors, he dubbed them the G Line. His fastest forwards, Mireet, Ginny and Michael, formed the second line, called the Rocket Line. The third line consisted of Ernie, Terry and Anthony, who used the first letter in each of their names to become the ETA Line. The fourth line, with the absent Seamus and the Durmstrang Tanks, simply went by the Bruise Line.

O'Bannon went to dinner in a very good mood. All his offensive and defensive formations were set, and the team looked great. He couldn't feel any more confident about their chances against Slytherin.

He'd barely begun to eat when an owl delivered a letter to him. He tensed when he saw the name of the sender.

Marlene Maybin, Director the US Department of Magic's Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I am so delighted to hear that you are exposing the wizards and witches of Britain to this exciting Muggle game of hockey. What an excellent way to promote Muggle culture to the Wizarding World. A successful game could open the door to a broader understanding of the Muggle World and help end the sort of prejudice that led to the rise He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers._

O'Bannon felt a little twist in his stomach when another owl arrived. He hesitated for a moment before taking the letter it held in its beak.

_Dear Jimmy,_

_I want to wish you best of luck in your hockey game coming up on June 8th. You should be proud of all the work you have done to make this a reality. You embody not only the spirit of the exchange student program, but the spirit of the Department of Magic to promote tolerance and understanding of Muggle-borns, and Muggle culture. _

_I shall be at Hogwarts for your game, and look forward to seeing this hockey sport first hand._

_Sincerely,_

_Marcellus Laribee, US Ambassador to Wizarding Britain._

"More fan male, Jimmy?" George quipped.

"Uh, yeah." He handed him both letters. George shared them with the others at the table, who looked excited over them.

O'Bannon just sat quietly, staring at his dinner.

**XXXXX**

May 31st. June 1st. June 2nd. June 3rd. The days flew by for O'Bannon, drawing closer and closer to "The Day." The game began to dominate his mind, to the point it became a struggle to concentrate on his school work. Professor Flitwick had even kept him for a few minutes after class to discuss the Poor grade he received on his Charms test, and that was one of his best subjects.

More owls arrived with letters from Muggle-borns wishing him luck, or calling him an inspiration. One or two letters came from people who wrote that the hockey game was a waste of time and, "If you like stupid Muggle games so much, then go back to the Muggle World."

Those letters he ignored.

June 4th. June 5th. June 6th. The dread that normally came with the approach of final exams had been replaced with excitement, not just over the Triad/Slytherin hockey game, but over the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It would take place on the Quidditch field, now covered by rows of hedges that grew larger every day.

_A maze?_ That was O'Bannon's initial impression, though he doubted the final task would be something as simple as just navigating through a maze. The champions would probably face all sorts of obstacles in there. He just hoped Harry was ready for it.

June 7th. One day left before the game. O'Bannon didn't talk much during the morning and afternoon. Some of his friends asked if he was all right.

"I'm fine," he'd always answer, and go back to being quiet.

For their final practice, the Triad headed to the arena that had been used for the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. While the grandstands remained, the dragon pen had long since been removed. A huge ice rink took its place, surrounded by glass and plastic boards. Large wooden scoreboards hung from the grandstands on the north and south ends of the rink. A large green banner stretched over the ice that read WELCOME TO HOGWARTS' FIRST EVER ICE HOCKEY MATCH: TRIAD VS. SLYTHERIN.

"Wows," went up from many of the Triad members.

O'Bannon took in the scene without a word.

They watched the Slytherins practice, with Professor Snape and Professor Burbage on hand to make sure both sides behaved. Much of the practice consisted of Malfoy yelling at and threatening his players. From their facial expressions, the Slytherins and two Durmstrangs either looked intimidated or pissed off. They made lots of errant passes. O'Bannon couldn't count how many times their shots missed the net.

"What the hell is wrong with you lot?" Malfoy screamed. "Do you want to lose to those Mudbloods and blood traitors?"  
>"Five points from Slytherin," Burbage said.<p>

Malfoy didn't seem to notice as he kept yelling. "Do you want to embarrass your families? Embarrass our house? This is our chance to show we're superior to trash like that!" He pointed at the Triad. "In every way! Now start playing better."

To O'Bannon's surprise, they did. The Slytherins' passes were crisper, their shots on net more accurate. When their practice ended, they left the ice and strutted past the Triad, with Malfoy wearing a smug look.

"You don't stand a chance against us," he said, chin raised.

"Isn't that what you always say before every Quidditch match with Gryffindor?" asked Fred.

"Yet you always seem to lose, don't you?" George chimed in.

Malfoy scowled at them.

The Slytherins hung around to watch the Triad's practice, jeering them non-stop. O'Bannon and the others ignored them. After about 20 minutes, the Slytherins gave up and headed back to the castle.

O'Bannon ran the team through a light practice. After doing this for six solid months, they were as good as they were going to get. No sense in wearing them out a day before the big game.

When practice ended, he called everyone to center ice. He took a deep breath and tried to look relaxed.

"Well, gang, this is it. Tomorrow's the big day."

Several players cheered. A few stayed quiet, looking nervous.

O'Bannon continued. "I know ten months ago, you guys didn't know a thing about this sport. And now, I ain't blowin' smoke up your asses when I say you've all become top notch players. I'm damn proud to be going into battle with you tomorrow. But even more important than becoming good players, we've become a team. I know we've got each other's backs, on and off the ice, and that's what's going to carry us through the day."

He turned to Angelina and the twins. "Alternate captains, anything to say?"

Angelina nodded. "I just want to say that all of you should be proud of yourselves for all the work you've put in over the past few months. I know some of you I've gotten on quite a bit, and you've probably hated me for it. But tomorrow, when we beat Slytherin, you'll see it was all worth it, because it made you into better, more determined players."

Fred spoke next. "I'm sure you'll all do your part to beat those snakes tomorrow."

"At least you'd better," said George. "Because if you don't, there'll be consequences."

"Yes, dire consequences."

"Like Fire Tongue Powder on your treacle tart."

"Or a Snot Rocket Special slipped to you unknowingly."

"Or your seat in History of Magic replaced by a Sit and Scratch Chair."

The twins looked to O'Bannon with a grin. He gave them a faux scowl.

The other players laughed. This was another reason he liked having Fred and George on the Triad. Besides being talented athletes, they also did a great job keeping everyone loose.

"Okay," O'Bannon said. "I want everyone in bed early tonight so you're well rested for tomorrow. Those of you with girlfriends and boyfriends, if you have any issues going on, take care of them tonight. If you don't have any issues, don't create any. We need you one hundred percent focused on the game."

He paused and looked around at the team. "Anyone else have anything to add?"

No one did.

"All right. Bring it in."

Everyone gathered in a circle and put their hands in the middle.

"Triad on three. One, two, three."

"TRIAD!"

They skated off the ice and went back to the castle, except for O'Bannon. He stood on the edge of the ice, taking in the open-air arena. He pictured the Triad and Slytherins skating around in their uniforms. He imagined the stands packed with students and teachers . . . and reporters . . . and Ambassador Marcellus Laribee.

He swallowed.

"Jimmy?"

O'Bannon turned around to find Mireet walking over to him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Um, yeah. I'm fine."

"You do not seem fine."

"I'm, um, just thinking."

Mireet continued to stare at him, unconvinced.

O'Bannon's lips tightened. He didn't want to say anything. He was the captain, the leader. Leaders had to appear in control. They couldn't go spilling their guts about whatever stupid fears they had.

_And what was it you said about taking care of issues?_

He looked at Mireet, noting the concern on her beautiful face.

"You know, I didn't plan to do anything like this." He spread out his arms toward the ice. "I just wanted to show some wizards and witches what hockey was all about, maybe make some friends. Now look. This thing's taken on a life of its own. They're writing about this game in the newspaper, talking about it on the wireless. We've got politicians coming here, and half the Muggle-borns in my country think I'm some sort of champion of Muggle culture. It's like they expect this one hockey game to change the world, to end hundreds of years of prejudice just like that. What happens when it doesn't? What happens if we go through all this trouble and most of the people here tomorrow think this is the most boring game they've ever seen? What if, God forbid, we lose to Slytherin?"

"Why does it matter to you what those people think?"

O'Bannon's mouth hung open, searching for an answer.

"Jimmy." Mireet stepped closer to him. "In all the months I have known you, you have always struck me as a person who does not care what other people think of you. That is . . . an endearing quality. Yet now you are concerned about the thoughts of people you do not even know."

"Because . . . I don't know, because it feels like there's a lot more riding on this game than just beating Slytherin."

"Perhaps for some people, and you can do nothing about what they think. But to us . . ." Mireet bit her lip for a moment. "I think for many of us, there is more to this game, to the Triad, than simply beating Slytherin. We . . . you, have created something special. Because of the Triad, I have had the opportunity to meet many wonderful people and become friends with them, and I believe those friendships will endure long after our game with Slytherin is over. I think that shall be my fondest memory of this team, and you made that possible."

O'Bannon felt his nervousness, his tension, dissolve. Mireet was right. Damn, was she right. He had been putting way too much pressure on himself. Yes, the hockey game would be an excellent way to promote Muggle culture in the Wizarding World. But if some people didn't enjoy the game, well, like Mireet said, he couldn't help that. He decided to concentrate on the fact that he had brought together 19 other wizards and witches from different countries and, for Hogwarts, different houses, and turned them into more than a team.

He had turned them into a family.

That was good enough for him.

Mireet took hold of his hand. The breath caught in O'Bannon's throat.

"We will do well tomorrow." She gently squeezed his hand.

O'Bannon smiled. "Yeah. We will."

* * *

><p><em><strong>NEXT: THE TRIAD VS. SLYTHERIN. GAME ON!<strong>_

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_Anyone interested in seeing some of Jimmy's adventures outside of this story can check out my one-shot "The Luna Effect." Yes, it's Jimmy's encounter with Luna Lovegood. Need I say more?_


	39. Faceoff

**CHAPTER 39: FACE-OFF**

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><p>O'Bannon awoke with butterflies in his stomach the morning of the game. He tried to ignore it. Back at Salem, he'd always felt this way the morning of the first game of the year.<p>

_Just deal with it, _he thought as he set off on his morning run. After showering and changing, he went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. On his way in, he looked at the big good luck banner from Salem and patted it.

_I wish you guys were here today._

He forced himself to eat some corn flakes and toast. Looking around at the other tables, he noticed several Triad players ate very little or nothing at all. Even many of the Slytherins barely touched their breakfasts. Malfoy looked paler than usual, to the point O'Bannon thought the ferrety little prick would barf all over the table.

"Good luck today, Jimmy," someone said after O'Bannon finished his breakfast. He turned to find it was Harry Potter.

"Thank, Harry." O'Bannon nodded to him, and found his nervousness starting to fade. Harry had faced dragons and merepeople in the first two tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. What the hell was a hockey game compared to that?

Even so, he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than the game throughout the day. Dozens of students came up to him in the corridors and at lunch to wish him luck. He constantly checked his watch, counting down the hours and minutes until the opening face-off at four o'clock.

At two-thirty, he met up with the rest of the Triad in front of the Great Hall. Together they walked down to the arena. Nobody spoke, everyone apparently lost in their own thoughts.

"Oi, could you lot be any quieter?" asked Fred.

"I know," George chimed in. "Professor's Binns' class is livelier than any of you."

Laughter rippled through the group. O'Bannon grinned, once again grateful to have Fred and George on the team to keep everyone loose.

They entered the changing tent, put on their uniforms and went out on the ice for warm-ups. The grandstands were about a quarter full. Music boomed through Lee Jordan's magical megaphone. Muggle music. Metallica's "Fuel." After many failed attempts, including one disaster where cartoon characters had been briefly unleashed, Dean finally found a charm to allow Muggle CDs and videotapes to play inside Hogwarts. Granted, he had help from Hermione. A lot of help from Hermione. After teaching Lee the charm, they now had a cool mix of Muggle and Wizarding music to play before the game.

The Slytherins came out for their warm-ups a few minutes later. Professors Burbage and Moody stood on the ice, while the flying instructor, Madam Hooch, hovered overhead on her broom, to make sure no incidents occurred between the two sides.

None did, beyond a few glares.

A half-hour before the game, both teams headed back to their respective tents. When O'Bannon and the rest of the Triad entered their changing room, they found a rotund, dark-skinned wizard in blue robes waiting for them.

"Excuse me, who are you?" asked Angelina.

The big wizard smiled. "Marcellus Laribee, United States Ambassador to Wizarding Britain."

O'Bannon's eyes widened, so did the eyes of a few other Triad players.

"I know you have a game to prepare for, but I wanted to spare a minute to wish you all luck, especially you, Jimmy."

"Um, thanks." O'Bannon shook the ambassador's hand.

"You should be proud of what you've done." Laribee scanned the rest of the Triad. "All of you. It is the hope of the American Department of Magic, and the British Ministry of Magic, that this game will help foster a better understanding of Muggle culture, and counter the sort of prejudices that led to so much suffering for Muggles and Muggle-borns during the last war. I thank you all for doing this, and wish you the best of luck."

The Triad thanked Laribee before he exited the tent. O'Bannon watched him go, feeling the pressure of being some sort of symbol for Muggle-borns everywhere rest on his shoulders again.

_Forget about that. Just concentrate on the game. That's only thing that matters right now._

O'Bannon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He crossed himself and exhaled.

"Okay, gang. Gather round."

The Triad formed a tight circle. O'Bannon looked around at them. Memories flashed through his head. Their first informal meetings. Teaching hockey to the Muggle Studies Class. Conversations at meal times. Hanging out in the common room. The Yule Ball, in spite of how things ended that night between him and Mireet.

_Mireet. _His gaze lingered on the beautiful French witch before moving on to other players.

Ernie MacMillan. He had thought the Hufflepuff a pompous ass when they first met.

Michael Corner and Terry Boot. They had constantly jeered the hockey club during their earlier meetings.

Angelina Johnson. She had been reluctant to warm up to him.

Fred and George Weasley. He had so wanted to pound their asses for that prank with the Sit and Scratch Chair in History of Magic.

Now he considered them all good friends.

O'Bannon felt a lump in his throat. They'd been through so much together, on and off the ice. It was going to make leaving here in a few weeks very difficult.

"I, um . . . I just wanted to say, before we talk about anything else, thank you. I know I didn't get off on the right foot with any of you when I first got here, so thank you for giving me a second chance, and thank you for giving hockey a chance. Because of all you guys, you made my year here at Hogwarts one of the best experiences of my life."

Susan and Mireet sniffled. Katie wiped at her right eye.

"I say, George, I'm going to need a tissue after hearing that." Fred pretended to get choked up.

"Just one tissue, Fred. I'm going to have to conjure up at least three."

Several players laughed, mainly the guys.

"Aw, bite me," O'Bannon said. "All right, enough of this emotional crap. Time to talk about the game. I want us to come out hard and fast. We attack, and we don't let up. Assault Crabbe on net. Keep shooting pucks at him. Don't let up. We're bound to get a few past him. I want an early lead on these jagoffs, get 'em demoralized. When that happens, we start getting physical with 'em. Clean hits whenever you get the chance, and maybe someone drop the gloves with a snake. I want to show Slytherin that this is our house. We own it. They're just guests, and the kind of guests that have already worn out their welcome."

Many of the players chuckled.

"Alternate captains, anything to add?"

"Yes," said Angelina. "A lot of us have played Slytherin in Quidditch. You know what they're like. They'll try to goad you into taking bad penalties. Don't fall for it. Let them take the penalties. Merlin knows they get their fair share in Quidditch."

The Triad members nodded.

Fred and George looked to one another, then back at the others.

"Minister Fudge is going to make a speech before the game," Fred said.

"Anyone care to make a wager on whether or not he'll say something stupid?"

"Come now, George. What sort of wager is that? Everything Fudge says is stupid."

That got everyone laughing.

"All right, guys, hands in the center," O'Bannon told them. "What say we go out there and kick some Slytherin ass?"

"Yeah!" several Triad players cheered.

"Triad on three. One, two, three."

"TRIAD!"

O'Bannon led them down the runway leading to the edge of the ice. He drew a breath and held it, staring at the packed grandstands. The music faded, replaced by the voice of Lee Jordan as he introduced the officials for the game. Three men in black pants and black and white-striped shirts skated across the ice, all of them the fathers of Muggle-borns, all of them experienced hockey officials. The referee, Fredrick Iwers, had worked games in the Swedish Elite League for six years. The linesman, Jan Moravec and Vitaly Proshkin, had officiated youth and minor league games in the Czech Republic and Russia respectively.

"Now for today's opponents," Lee's voice echoed throughout the arena. "First, here's Slytherin."

Malfoy's bunch skated out to a chorus of boos, at least from three-fourths of the student body. The Slytherin stands cheered like crazy.

"Let's see, we've got Number Eight, Phillip Higgs; Number Ten, Graham Montague; Number Eleven, Millicent Bullstrode . . ."

Lee read the Slytherin names in a flat tone. Not as flat as Professor Binns, but pretty close. He finished with the starters, the line of Draco Malfoy, Gregory Goyle and Ares Urquhart, the defensive paring of Miles Bletchley and Brennus Vaisey, and goalie Vincent Crabbe.

"And now!" Renewed energy filled Lee's voice. "Here's the team that'll be beating -"

"Mister Jordan!" Professor McGonagall cut him off.

"Er, sorry, Professor. Just got caught up in the moment."

O'Bannon grinned. Many of his friends had told him about Lee's hysterical and biased commentary at Quidditch games.

"As I was saying, here's Slytherins' opponents for today. Give a cheer for . . . THE TRIIIIIII-AAAAAD!"

Thunderous cheers and applause rocked the arena as O'Bannon led his team onto the ice. Chills raced through his body. He could feel the very air vibrate from the din of yelling and clapping.

Lee ran down the Triad roster, adding his observations on each player.

"Number Eight, Mireet Miradeaux, the loveliest and sweetest member of the Beauxbatons contingent; Number Twelve, Ginny Weasley, who may be small, but rest assured packs quite a wallop; Number Fourteen, Angelina Johnson, the most gorgeous witch at Hogwarts who I'm sure will go out with me if -"

"Lee Jordan!" McGonagall shouted. "We are not at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop! Just give the players names."

"Er, right, Professor."

Lee went through the rest of the Triad roster. When he finished, Headmaster Dumbledore welcomed everyone to the game, before turning it over to Minister of Magic Fudge.

"Good afternoon, students and staff of Hogwarts, colleagues from the Ministry, and distinguished guests. While the Tri-Wizard Tournament has, for centuries, provided a setting to promote better relations between witches and wizards from different countries, the Ministry of Magic has taken the concept one step further. This _hoe-kay_ sport is our way of promoting a better understanding of Muggle culture, and thereby more respect for the Muggle-borns in our world. As you know, the treatment of Muggles and Muggle-borns has been a point of contention for many, many years . . ."

Fudge went on and on, talking about incidents of abuse involving Muggles and Muggle-borns, how the Ministry of Magic was "working tirelessly" to rectify these issues, and then thanking a long list of people who helped make this game possible.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna fall asleep," O'Bannon muttered. More than anything he wished the Monty Python crew would show up and shout one of their famous lines, "Get on with it!"

Fudge finally, mercifully, shut up. O'Bannon's heart pounded as the starters for both teams skated toward center ice, with the others heading for their respective benches. He took a couple of cleansing breaths, settling himself down. He pushed crowd noise, along with Lee's commentary, far into the background. His focus was on Malfoy, who stood at the face-off circle, scowling at him.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when I beat you at this stupid game, O'Bannon."

"I can't wait to see you do something besides run your damn mouth, ferret boy."

Malfoy stared daggers at him.

"Are you two ready?" asked Referee Iwers.

Both O'Bannon and Malfoy nodded. Their sticks hovering just above the face-off circle.

The ref stuck out his right hand, which held the puck. The universe froze as O'Bannon waited for it to drop.

Waited . . . waited . . .

The ref unclenched his hand. The puck hit the ice.

O'Bannon's and Malfoy's sticks clacked together as they swatted at the puck. It trickled away. O'Bannon reeled it in. Malfoy banged a shoulder into him. O'Bannon shouldered him back, nearly knocking him off-balance. He passed the puck to Katie. Skate blades scratched the ice as Triad and Slytherin players charged up the rink. Malfoy and Bletchley closed around O'Bannon. He pumped his legs, trying to get some space between the Slytherins as Katie sent a pass to Fred along the boards. He narrowly avoided a hit by Urquhart and zipped a cross ice pass to George.

"George Weasley brings it behind the net, Vaisey on him," Lee told the crowd. "Weasley to Bell. Bell looks to the net. She doesn't take the shot. Passes to Thomas. Thomas to O'Bannon. The Yank rips it! Oh, it's stopped by Crabbe. Now Malfoy has the puck."

O'Bannon skated backwards, staying on Urquhart, as Malfoy crossed the blue line.

"Malfoy passes it to Goyle. Goyle takes the shot, but misses the Triad net. He didn't even come close to it. What was he thinking? Wait, does Goyle know how to think?"

"Mister Jordan!"

"Sorry, Professor. Just some good-natured ribbing. Oh look! Fred Weasley's got the puck back for the Triad. He passes it to his brother, George. Now to Bell."

O'Bannon ignored the heavy feeling in his legs. He gritted his teeth, summoning every ounce of speed he had. His eyes flickered all over the ice, taking in the positions of his players and the Slytherins. Vaisey came in at an angle on Katie, forcing her toward the boards.

"Katie! Katie! Katie!" O'Bannon hollered.

She looked up at him and passed the puck. It clipped off Vaisey's skate and trickled away.

_Crap!_ O'Bannon raced after it. A flash of green and silver caught the corner of his eye. Malfoy streaked toward the errant puck. Anger flashed through O'Bannon. The damn ferret was going to get there before –

George suddenly appeared and smacked the puck toward O'Bannon. He got it on his stick, deked around Bletchley, and headed for the net.

"O'Bannon rears back. One-time . . . Oh no! The puck bounces off Crabbe's very, very large stomach."

Urquhart got the puck and passed it to Bletchley. Fred pinned the Slytherin defenseman against the boards as O'Bannon's G Line came off the ice, replaced by the Rocket Line of Mireet, Ginny and Michael. Seconds later Angelina and Tortorov took over for the Weasley twins on defense as Slytherin also changed skaters.

"Montague passes it to Higgs. Higgs to the far corner to Bulstrode. Oh goodness! Angelina Johnson crushes Bulstrode into the boards! Well done, Ang. That's my girl. Now she sends the puck to Ginny Weasley. She passes it to Corner. Here comes the Triad up the ice for a two-on-one rush. Corner to Miradeaux. Now back to Corner. Warrington tries to poke check it away. He can't reach the puck. Corner goes to shoot. No! He passes to Miradeaux. She shoots, SHE SCOOOOORES!"

Cheers exploded through the arena. Mireet and the other Triad skaters gathered for a group hug near the net. O'Bannon and the players on the bench jumped to their feet, yelling, pumping their fists and high-fiving each another.

"Mireet Miradeaux caught Crabbe out of position and scored top shelf, right where Mummy hides the cookies. That was a scoring expression Jimmy O'Bannon taught me. Hope you liked it, Jimmy."

O'Bannon smiled. _Oh you better believe I liked it._

He sent out the Triad's third line, the ETA line, to take the face-off. Slytherin won it.

"Harper flies down the ice," Lee voice boomed through the magical megaphone. "He passes to Petrova, one of two Durmstrang students on the Slytherin team. She passes to Bridget Baldwin. Back to Harper. He shoots. Blocked by Harkorth. The puck rolls away. Petrova and Goldstein battle for it. Petrova gets it. Slaps it over to Galton Selby. He angles to the right, going for the shot. No, he sends it across to Harper! A wide open net. He shoots . . . Merlin's beard! A diving save by Harkorth!"

"Yeah!" O'Bannon pounded the side of the boards that separated the bench from the ice. Many other Triad players did the same. Sheer joy burst inside O'Bannon. They were barely five minutes into the game, and everything was going their way.

_It's not over yet, Jimmy. Not by a long shot._

O'Bannon's line took to the ice again. He and Katie each took a shot at net, only to be denied by Crabbe. The Rocket Line and the ETA Line also couldn't score. Neither could the Slytherins, who missed the net four times and got stopped by Harkorth twice.

With 9:28 to go in the first period, O'Bannon's line was on defense. He skated alongside Malfoy, denying him a shot on goal. They both skated behind the net. Malfoy sent the puck around the boards. Goyle stopped it. George slammed into him, shaking the boards. The crowd cheered as George and Goyle jostled each other and swatted at the puck with their sticks. George shouldered away the big Slytherin and batted the puck, which rolled toward Dean.

O'Bannon started up ice. He caught sight of George turning. Goyle brought up his stick and cross-checked George across the back. The redhead stumbled and fell to the ice.

"What the hell's that crap?" O'Bannon barreled toward Goyle as the ref blew his whistle. The Czech linesman got in front of O'Bannon and held him back.

"Real tough guy, Goyle!" He hollered over the linesman's shoulder. "Why don't you try that when someone's facing you, you wanker?"

"Back up, back up," the linesman ordered.

O'Bannon did as he was told, glaring at Goyle as the Russian linesman led him to the penalty box.

"You okay, buddy?" He patted George on the shoulder as Fred joined them.

"'Course I'm okay." George straightened up. "Merlin's beard, Ginny hits harder than that."

O'Bannon smiled as they skated over to the Slytherin end of the ice. The ref stood at center ice, his voice booming throughout the arena, courtesy of a spell cast earlier by Dumbledore.

"Slytherin penalty, Number Three Goyle, two minutes for cross-checking."

O'Bannon had Dean stand in the face-off circle opposite Malfoy. Unfortunately, the ferret won the puck and passed it to Bletchley, who cleared it down the ice. Harkorth corralled it with his stick, then sent it over to George.

"George Weasley sends a cross ice pass to his brother, Fred," Lee said. "The Triad works it back down the ice. Fred over to Thomas. Thomas sends it over to the left wing to Bell."

Now came some tic-tac-toe passing. Katie to O'Bannon, then to Dean, back to O'Bannon, then to Fred, then Katie, then Dean. The Slytherins formed a half-circle around the net, trying to anticipate when a Triad player would should.

They continued to pass. O'Bannon to Fred. Fred to Katie. Katie to O'Bannon. He reared the stick back. Malfoy, Urquhart and Bletchley closed ranks.

O'Bannon sent the puck to Katie. She fired a one-timer to the net. It hit off Malfoy's leg. He yelped as the puck caromed away.

O'Bannon rushed forward. He launched the puck through the space between the grimacing Malfoy and Urquhart. It streaked past Crabbe and popped the twine on the left side of the net.

"HE SCOOOOORES!" Lee screamed. "Our favorite Yank, Jimmy O'Bannon, blasts it past Crabbe to put the Triad up two-nil over Slytherin! Get in the fast lane, Grandmum, the bingo game's about to start. That's another Muggle scoring phrase Jimmy taught me."

Crabbe slammed his stick on the ice as Katie, Dean and the twins mobbed O'Bannon. Lee played a song from another Muggle CD, Gary Glitter's "Rock N'Roll," the traditional goal music at NHL games. They all skated back to the bench, where they were greeted with high-fives and shoulder slaps from their teammates.

"All right, this is where we want 'em, guys," O'Bannon told the Triad. "Now we start knocking around these jagoffs and show 'em who's boss. Bruise Line. Get out there and splatter some snakes!"

Seamus, Velich and Kurdzeli all responded with enthusiasm and leapt over the boards, joined by Angelina and Tortorov on defense.

The Bruise Line lived up to its name. Kurdzeli smashed Warrington into the boards with an ear-splitting _bang! _Seamus knocked down Higgs with a solid open ice hit. Even Angelina got into the act by ramming Radmund Younger into the boards. The crowd went nuts with every hard hit.

They went even crazier when Velich and Montague dropped the gloves. A wall of noise enveloped the arena as the two behemoths exchanged clubbing blows. Velich yanked Montague's jersey halfway off and drove two fists into his back. Montague freed his left hand and jabbed the Bulgarian in the ribs. Velich caught the Slytherin with a fist to the jaw. Montague toppled to the ice, Velich on top of him. That's when the officials got in there to break it up.

O'Bannon could barely hear himself yell over the cheering of hundreds of students. He and the other Triad players banged their sticks against the boards in a salute to Velich.

The physical play didn't end there. Terry Boot, Michael Corner, even Ginny Weasley, creamed Slytherin players against the boards. During his shift, O'Bannon spotted Malfoy going for the puck along the boards. He grinned. This was too good to pass up.

Eyes locked on Malfoy, he charged across the ice, the scratches from his skates growing louder. Malfoy got the puck and turned to find someone to pass it to.

_WHAM!_

The boards rattled as O'Bannon crushed Malfoy. The Slytherin prick crumpled to the ice as O'Bannon passed the puck to Katie. He then looked down at Malfoy, who was in a fetal position and moaning.

"Aww. Did'ums fall down, go boom?"

Malfoy responded with another moan, which O'Bannon barely heard over the insane cheering, fueled no doubt by the Gryffindor stands.

The Triad outshot Slytherin the rest of the way, but couldn't get any more pucks past Crabbe. When the horn sounded to signal the end of the first period, O'Bannon led his team toward the runway leading to the changing tent.

"Yeah!" Terry Boot pumped his fist. "We're bloody kicking their slimy arses! They don't stand a chance against us!"

"None of that talk!" O'Bannon snapped at him. "We've still got plenty of game left, and two to nothing isn't exactly blowing them out."

He looked across the ice at the Slytherins as they headed for their changing tent. He tried to read their faces, their body language. Had the Triad's physical play in the last few minutes intimidated them? Demoralized them?

Instead he saw Malfoy stop the Slytherins and jab his stick toward the scoreboard. Many of the green and silver-clad players then turned to O'Bannon and the Triad. They did not look intimidated. Not at all.

They looked pissed off.

O'Bannon had a feeling they were in for one hell of a battle in the second period.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_

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><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_The reference regarding Dean accidentally unleashing cartoon characters is detailed in my one-shot "Cartoon Chaos."_


	40. Closing the Gap

**CHAPTER 40: CLOSING THE GAP**

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><p>"We may be up right now, but we can't afford to get complacent," O'Bannon addressed the Triad in their changing tent. Alicia went around treating players for bumps, bruises and cuts as he continued. "I was hoping getting out to an early lead and knocking around the Slytherins would demoralize them. Well, I was wrong. Malfoy looked pissed when he went into the locker room. So did the rest of them. They have the whole intermission to get over what happened in the first period and regroup. Crabbe's doing better in goal than I expected and they're only down by two goals with two whole periods left to go. They know they still have a chance to pull this out."<p>

"Not to mention all the pressure Malfoy's probably getting from daddy," said Fred. "He doesn't want to bring shame to his scumbag family by losing to a bunch of Muggle-borns and blood traitors."

"You can bet the other Slytherins heard the same from their parents," George added.

"Fred and George are right." O'Bannon nodded to the twins. "The Slytherins are gonna be motivated to play better in the second period. We've gotta be ready for it. Keep attacking. Keep the pressure up on Crabbe. And avoid dumb penalties. We don't want to give Slytherin a lot of power play chances. We're a long way from being done. So let's go out there and do what we gotta do."

The Triad responded with nods and "yeahs." O'Bannon talked strategy for a few minutes before they headed back onto the ice.

"And here they are again, folks, the Triad!" Lee said into the magical megaphone. The crowd – minus the Slytherins - let out a huge cheer.

O'Bannon sent out the Rocket Line to start the period, hoping their speed would result in an immediate attack on the Slytherin net, and maybe a goal, to keep momentum on their side. Malfoy's line countered them.

Urquhart and Michael stood at center ice. The referee released the puck. Michael won it and tried to push it over to Ginny. Bletchley got in front of her and intercepted the puck.

"Bletchley heads down ice. Passes to Malfoy. Now over to Urquhart. Urquhart at the left wing shoots . . . deflected by Harkorth. Oh wait! Vaisey has the puck. Slapshot! Harkorth stops it! What a save."

O'Bannon and the others on the bench whooped and hollered as Harkorth held on to the puck until the ref blew the whistle. Michael and the rest of the Rocket Line came back to the Triad bench, replaced by O'Bannon's G Line. Slytherin countered with their hulking fourth line.

_This could get a little rough._

O'Bannon stood in the face-off circle with the other Durmstrang student on Malfoy's team, Costim Ouranos. The brutish young man glared at him. O'Bannon responded with a smile, and a line from the movie _Slapshot._

"'Hey, Ogie. You wanna get a soda after the game.'"

A baffled look formed on Ouranos' face.

O'Bannon continued to smile as the referee dropped the puck.

He won the face-off and passed to Katie. She took off along the boards. Peregrine Derrick charged toward her. Katie put on a little burst of speed and narrowly avoided the hit. The boards shook as she passed the puck to George, who sent it to Fred, then back to O'Bannon as they entered the Slytherin zone.

That's when he saw Warrington barreling toward him.

O'Bannon glimpsed Fred to his right, sent the puck toward him, and braced himself.

The entire world shook. Pain ripped through him as he spun around and crashed to the ice. O'Bannon gritted his teeth and slowly got to his feet. He shook his head clear. The Slytherins skated toward the Triad zone. Taking a wheezing breath, he followed.

Fred, George and Dean cut off the Slytherin passing lanes, forcing Lucian Bole to make a shot that went wide. Katie got the puck and took it up ice, allowing the other Triad skaters to get to the bench.

The action continued back and forth for the next few minutes, each team trying to gain an advantage. Neither side was successful, as their shots missed the net or were stopped by the goalie.

With 13:48 left to go in the period, O'Bannon led a rush up ice. He passed to George, who sent it to Katie, who sent it to Dean.

"The pass is out of Thomas' reach," Lee said. "It caroms off the boards. Malfoy has it. Passes it to Goyle as Slytherin moves down ice. Goyle to Vaisey. Thomas is right on Vaisey, trying to snare the puck with his stick. Vaisey goes down! There's the whistle. Oh no, it's a penalty on the Triad. Dean Thomas will sit in the penalty box for two minutes for tripping. I don't know. Vaisey looks like he tripped over his own feet, if you ask me."

"Mister Jordan," McGonagall shouted. "Do not question the officials."

"I wasn't questioning them, Professor. Merely making an observation."

O'Bannon sent out Michael, Mireet, Angelina and Tortorov to begin the penalty kill. Michael won the face-off from Higgs and passed the puck to Angelina. She tried to clear it, but Bulstrode stopped it at center ice. She took a few strides, then passed to Montague on her left. He took a shot, which hit off the side of the net. Higgs and Corner came together and battled for the puck. It squirted away. Warrington came in and swatted the puck. Harkorth laid out, the puck catching his arm. He shoved it away . . .

Right onto Higgs' stick! He fired a one-timer over Harkorth and into the net.

O'Bannon clenched his jaw as he watched the Slytherins celebrate. Groans and muttered curses went up from the players around him.

"Forget about it," Angelina said when she returned to the bench. "We just have to go out there and get another goal."

"Angelina's right," O'Bannon declared. "It's like I said at the intermission. Slytherin's gonna give us a fight back. We have to fight back. Got it?"

The players acknowledged him with nods and "yeahs."

He sent out the ETA line of Ernie, Terry and Anthony, with Justin and Summerby on defense. Even though Slytherin won the face-off, Justin and Summerby broke up their attack and got the puck to the forwards, who got two shots on net, both unsuccessful, before O'Bannon called for a line change.

Each side continued taking shots and dishing out hits. No one managed to score. With 8:29 left to go, Harper got called for a slashing penalty, giving Triad the power play. The man advantage only lasted for 35 seconds, however, when Fred got called for hooking.

Still no one scored.

With 5:01 remaining in the second period, Tortorov went for a puck along the boards when Younger rushed over, jumped and smashed into him.

"Slytherin penalty," the ref announced. "Number Eight Younger. Two minutes for charging."

O'Bannon smiled as he watched Younger being escorted to the penalty box by a linesman. Another power play for the Triad. This time, they had to take advantage.

He led the G Line onto the ice, determined energy coursing through him. Malfoy waited for him in the face-off circle.

"Don't expect to score on this power play, O'Bannon."

"Don't expect me to be intimidated by a ferret."

Malfoy scowled and shook with anger. Man, he really hated those ferret remarks.

The trash talk apparently took Malfoy out of the game. O'Bannon easily won the face-off and passed the puck to Dean. He took a quick shot on net. The puck bounced off Crabbe's pads and toward Urquhart, who cleared it down ice. Harkorth got the puck and waited for Katie to skate by before passing it off to her. She, O'Bannon and Dean headed up ice. Katie sent the puck to O'Bannon. He sent it to Dean. Dean to George. George to Katie. Katie to O'Bannon. He took the shot. It hit the boards with a _clunk_ and bounced away. Malfoy got the puck and tried to clear it. Fred stepped in front of it. It hit off his shoulder and deflected into the air. Dean batted it down, turned and shot it at the net. Crabbe kicked it away. Dean raced toward the puck. So did O'Bannon. So did Malfoy and Urquhart. Shoulders and elbows battered O'Bannon. Sticks swung back and forth in a flurry. Wooden cracks filled the air. The puck trickled away. O'Bannon muscled his way past the Slytherins. He whacked at the puck. It hit off Crabbe's stomach and bounced back to him. O'Bannon dug the blade of his stick under the puck and lifted it into the air. It fluttered over Crabbe and landed in the net.

"HE SCOOOOOORES!" Lee yelled. "Jimmy O'Bannon scores for the Triad, and they go up three to one over Slytherin!"

O'Bannon pumped his fist and raised his stick into the air as Katie, Dean and the Weasley twins mobbed him. They skated back to the bench, where the other Triad players gave them high-fives and slaps on the shoulders. O'Bannon felt his muscles loosen. They had a bit of a cushion between themselves and Slytherin. Now they just had to extend it. There was nothing like a big lead to demoralize the other team.

With 3:23 left in the second period, the Rocket Line made another assault on net. Crabbe batted away shots from Ginny and Angelina before Slytherin regained the puck. Younger took it into the neutral zone before passing the puck to Higgs. It missed him by a couple of feet and banged off the boards. Ginny rushed toward it. So did Higgs. Ginny got to the puck a couple strides before Higgs and fired it at the Slytherin net, missing wide. Higgs bore down on her. Ginny dodged to the left, the blade of her stick still in the air. It caught Higgs in the mouth. Blood spilled from his lip as the ref blew his whistle.

"What rotten luck for the Triad," Lee announced. "Ginny Weasley will go to the sin bin for two minutes for high sticking on Higgs. Looks like that blow he took may have knocked out some of his teeth. That'll make Higgs even uglier than he was already."

While Professor McGonagall gave Lee one hell of a tongue-lashing, O'Bannon led Fred, George and Dean onto the ice for the penalty kill. Malfoy won the face-off from O'Bannon and passed the puck to Urquhart. He took a shot on goal. Harkorth made a kick save. George got the puck and tried to clear it along the boards. Bletchley kept it in the Triad zone. Pass to Malfoy. Pass to Vaisey. Back to Malfoy. O'Bannon and the others formed a half-circle in front of the net, trying to anticipate which Slytherin would take the shot.

"Malfoy sends the puck to Goyle. Goyle to Urquhart. Shot! O'Bannon gets a stick on it! The puck trickles away. O'Bannon and Urquhart go after it."

Urquhart reached the puck first. O'Bannon got in front of him, denying him a shot on net. Urquhart moved to the right. O'Bannon went after him, swinging his stick, trying to knock away the puck.

The blade caught Urquhart on the leg.

The shrill screech of the whistle drilled into O'Bannon's ears. He turned and saw the referee skating over to him.

"Number Four," the ref pointed at O'Bannon. "That's slashing. Penalty box."

"Aw, c'mon. I was going for the puck."

"Penalty box. Let's go."

O'Bannon scowled and headed to the box. Dammit! Now the Triad had to kill off a 5-on-3 power play.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

He took a seat next to Ginny, watching through the glass as Angelina, Tortorov and Michael formed a perimeter in front of the net. His chest tightened as he watched Malfoy's line pass the puck from one player to another. Goyle took a shot. Harkorth knocked it away with his stick.

"Yes!" O'Bannon gave a small fist pump as the non-Slytherin students cheered.

Tortorov batted the puck away. Vaisey got it and passed it to Urquhart. He faked a one-timer and passed it to Malfoy. He took the shot. The puck whizzed by Harkorth's shoulder and into the net.

"Bloody hell," Ginny spat as the scoreboard now read TRIAD 3, SLYTHERIN 2.

Malfoy skated by the penalty box, a huge grin on his face. O'Bannon felt red hot blood pulsating through his cheeks. Teeth bared, he got up and banged a fist on the glass partition, glaring at Malfoy. The damn ferret grinned even wider.

Ginny left the box, leaving O'Bannon by himself to serve the remainder of his penalty. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. He succeeded, somewhat, before the student volunteer manning the penalty box opened the door and sprang him.

O'Bannon leapt onto the ice and hurried toward the Triad end of the ice, where Bullstrode took a shot and missed wide. Angelina got the puck and passed it to Mireet, who skated into the neutral zone before sending it to O'Bannon. He streaked along the right wing, passing the puck back to Mireet, who sent it back to him. O'Bannon angled toward the net and took the shot. The puck zipped by Warrington, over the top of the net, and banged off the glass.

The ETA line took the next shift, and didn't manage a single shot on goal. O'Bannon sent out the Rocket Line for the final minute of play. The Slytherins got a shot on net, courtesy of Vaisey, before Tortorov got the puck and kicked off a Triad rush down the ice. Michael took a shot that went wide. Tortorov and Goyle fought for the puck in the corner. Tortorov won it and passed it to Mireet. She took the shoot. Crabbe knocked it away with his arm. Malfoy retrieved it, but the horn sounded before he could get it out of the Slytherin zone.

Mireet turned and headed for the bench. That's when Goyle bumped into her and nearly knocked her off her feet.

"What the hell's that crap!" O'Bannon jumped over the boards, rage exploding inside him. His blazing eyes locked on Goyle. He started over to him, fists clenched.

Ginny got in front of the large Slytherin, yelling at him and jabbing a finger at his face.

Goyle pushed her away.

Fred and George went ballistic. Threats and curses flew from their mouths. Just as they started toward Goyle, Michael launched himself at the big Slytherin. He rained blow after blow upon Goyle's head and shoulders.

Goyle punched Michael in the face three times. The Ravenclaw boy crumpled to the ice.

The three officials got between both teams, with the ref calling out penalties. Michael and Goyle both received five minutes for fighting, with Goyle getting an additional two minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct.

The referee sent the Slytherins off the ice first. O'Bannon glared at them, his rage burning white hot as he took in their arrogant smiles, their chins held high, and that damn air of superiority all those bastards possessed.

But a tendril of worry slithered through his anger. The Triad may have the lead, but after that late goal and Goyle's fight with Michael, one thing was certain.

Slytherin had the momentum going into the third period.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	41. Third Period

**CHAPTER 41: THIRD PERIOD**

* * *

><p>"It's like I said last intermission, guys," O'Bannon addressed the Triad in the changing tent. "We can't afford to let down. Slytherin wasn't intimidated. They came out with some fire in second period, and now we're up by just one goal, and they're sitting over in the other tent feeling damn good about themselves."<p>

"And probably in a bit better shape than some of us here." Fred looked over at Michael Corner, whose face was swollen and bruised. Alicia ran her wand over him, treating his injuries, while Ginny sat next to him, patting his knee.

"Bruises heal," O'Bannon said. "But losing to those chumpstains'll stick in our craw for a long time."

"Well we don't want that, do we?" George spoke up.

"Guess we'll just have to go back out there and make sure we beat those snakes," Fred added. Several Triad players responded to that with a, "Yeah!"

O'Bannon nodded. "That's exactly what we're gonna do. We just need to play more disciplined hockey and stay out of the penalty box. And that goes for me. I was the one who put us down five-on-three, and Slytherin took advantage and scored. Play aggressive, but play smart. Also, this is the third period. This is where all our conditioning comes into play. Slytherin hasn't been doing that as much as we have. So when they're sucking wind late in the game, we'll be able to keep going. Third and fourth lines, I'm gonna try to give you more ice time during the first ten minutes of the period, that way our scoring lines'll have fresher legs for the final ten minutes. And since Mike's gonna be out the first five minutes for his fighting penalty, we'll have to shuffle our lines. Katie, you center the G Line. Terry, you'll take over for her on right wing. I'll center the Rocket Line until Mike's done with his penalty."

O'Bannon moved forward a few steps, scanning his teammates. "This is it, gang. This is for all the Gobstones. Everything we've done for the last six months has led up to this moment. I know a lot of you are hurtin', some of you are probably tired, but this is the time you reach deep down for every ounce of strength, courage and pride you've got. You leave everything out on the ice. You play like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't. We only have this one game to beat Slytherin, and we are going to take it. Right?"

"Right!" the players responded.

"Dammit!" O'Bannon hollered. "I said right?"

"RIGHT!" the Triad hollered back.

"Then let's do it! Hands in the center. Triad on three. One, two, three."

"TRIAD!"

They headed back out to the ice with a minute left in the second intermission. The Slytherins appeared moments later. O'Bannon took slow, cleansing breaths, settling his nerves. He couldn't afford to be afraid or worried.

_You've been in games like this before. You know what it takes to win. Just go out there and do it._

With Goyle serving his penalties, the Triad began the third period on the power play. O'Bannon sent out his revamped first line with Katie, Dean, Terry and the Weasley twins facing Malfoy, Urquhart, Bletchley and Vaisey.

"The puck drops and the third and final period is underway," Lee announced. "Bell wins the face-off and passes to Thomas. Vaisey bats away the puck! No worries, Triad fans. Fred Weasley gets it back and passes to brother George on the right wing. He comes down the ice along the boards. Avoids a hit by Bletchley. George passes to Boot. Boot to Bell. She holds the puck. Pass to Thomas. He shoots! Kicked away by Crabbe. Fred gets the puck, takes it behind the net. Oh, he gets crunched by Urquhart. Much too vicious of a hit. Why isn't that a penalty, referee?"

"Mister Jordan!" McGonagall yelled from behind him. "I'm warning you."

"Yes, Professor. Anyway, Urquhart passes to Malfoy, who clears it down ice."

O'Bannon waved Katie's line off the ice. He hopped over the boards, along with Mireet, Ginny, and Angelina. Harkorth stopped the puck and gave it to George, who passed to Ginny before leaving the ice, replaced by Tortorov.

"Ginny Weasley skates through the neutral zone. Passes to O'Bannon. He passes to his Yule Ball date, Mireet Miradeaux. Miradeaux fakes the shot. A back door pass to Angelina Johnson! She shoots! It's blocked by Crabbe! Warrington tries to clear the puck. Johnson keeps it in. Passes to Ginny Weasley. Weasley to O'Bannon. He skates toward the net. Fakes the shot. Now he shoots. Deflected by Crabbe. Weasley's on the puck! She shoots, SHE SCOOOOORES! Yes, yes, yes! Little Ginny Weasley smoked Crabbe like a cheap cigar – that's another Muggle goal expression – and the Triad increases their lead four to two over Slytherin."

The crowd roared. O'Bannon, Mireet, Angelina and Tortorov mobbed Ginny before heading back to the bench.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" O'Bannon pumped his fist in front of the ecstatic Triad players. "Keep it up! Keep your foot on their throats, and do not let up until the final horn!"

The Triad whooped it up in response.

Just as he promised during the intermission, O'Bannon used the Triad's third and fourth lines throughout the next few minutes, until Kurdzeli took a roughing penalty for pie-facing Warrington. The Triad killed off the penalty, and went back to using their third and fourth lines. Slytherin did the same, making O'Bannon wonder if Malfoy was following his lead, giving his scoring lines some rest before the final ten minutes.

The score remained 4-2 as they reached the halfway mark of the period. The Triad's Rocket Line was on the ice versus Slytherin's third line.

"Ginny Weasley with the pass to Tortorov," Lee announced. "Tortorov passes to . . . intercepted! Harper has the puck and streaks down the ice. Corner is hot on his heels. Harper has at least two strides on him, approaching the net. Corner reaches out with his stick, trying to poke check the puck . . ."

O'Bannon leaned over the boards, holding his breath, praying for Michael to break up the play.

Michael took a swipe at the puck, missing. The blade of his stick got caught in Harper's skates. The Slytherin stumbled and left his feet. The puck rolled toward the net. Harkorth dropped to his knees and slapped his glove down on it.

Harper and Harkorth cracked helmets. Both went down to the ice in a heap. Gasps went up from the Triad bench, as well as throughout the crowd. Both players barely moved as the ref blew his whistle.

Dread filled O'Bannon as he hopped over the boards and skated toward his fallen goalie, joined by Alicia.

_Oh crap. Please be okay. Please be okay._

"Miroslav!" He crouched beside the sprawled Bulgarian as Alicia ran her wand over him. Madam Hooch hovered nearby on her broom. "Miroslav, can you hear me? You okay, buddy?"

Harkorth groaned as a wave of colored lines from Alicia's wand floated over him.

"He's got a concussion, Jimmy," Alicia told him. "And a pretty nasty one at that. So does Harper."

"Right, then," said Madam Hooch. "It's off to the hospital wing for these two. I find it highly unlikely they'll be returning to this match."

O'Bannon looked to the flying instructor, jaw clenched. His stomach flipped over at the thought of having to play the rest of the game without Harkorth in net.

_It's more important he get healed up right now._

Madam Hooch conjured a couple of stretchers, levitated Harkorth and Harper onto them, and took the pair up to the castle.

That's when the referee skated over to O'Bannon. From the look on the Swede's face, he feared it was more bad news for the Triad.

"Your player interfered with the Slytherin player on a scoring opportunity. That is a penalty shot for Slytherin."

O'Bannon scowled and looked back at his empty net. He drew a long breath and skated back to the bench. His eyes fell to the last player down the line, Susan Bones, who stared back at him wide-eyed, her face paler than usual.

"Harkorth's out. Concussion. Bonesy. You're up." He jabbed his thumb at the net.

Susan gave him a hesitant nod.

"Hey." He clamped a hand on her shoulder. "You can do this. I wouldn't have picked you for this team if I didn't think you could. You've worked your ass off in practice. Now you go out there, and you become a wall. Nothing gets by you, right?"

"Yes. Yes," she replied in a shaky voice as she put on her helmet and mask and headed to the Triad net.

O'Bannon gripped the top of the boards, feeling the tension radiating from the other Triad players. They all stared at Susan as she crouched in front of the net.

"You can do this, Susan!" Fred hollered.

"That's right!" Justin shouted. "We believe in you, Susan!"

No one else said anything. They watched as Boyana Petrova came in from center ice and took the puck over the blue line. She deked left, then right, then left. She took the shot. Susan lifted her glove hand.

The puck flew past her into the net.

The Slytherin bench, and their fans, cheered wildly.

The Triad players sighed or lowered their heads.

"Boyana Petrova scores on the penalty shot," a dejected Lee announced. "The score's four-three, still in Triad's favor."

O'Bannon led the G Line back onto the ice, looking up at the clock. 9:48 remained in the third period.

He had a feeling it would be a long nine minutes, 48 seconds.

"Shake it off, Bonesy." He skated by Susan and tapped her leg pads with his stick. "You've got the next one."

"And the one after that," said Fred.

"And the one after that," said George.

"And so on and so on."

O'Bannon caught a flicker of a smile behind the grills of Susan's goalie mask. Again, he thanked God Fred and George were on the Triad.

Malfoy won the face-off and pushed the puck over to Urquhart. He drew back the stick and fired it at the Triad net. It fell to the ice, bounced a couple of times, and was easily stopped by Susan. She passed the puck to Dean, who started a rush up ice.

"Thomas with a pass to Bell. Bell to O'Bannon. It goes wide. O'Bannon goes after it, chased by Goyle."

O'Bannon got to the puck first, sensing more than seeing Goyle bearing down on him. He knocked the puck away a split-second before Goyle leveled him. Pain pounded his body. He drew a wheezing breath as he sank to his knees.

_Get up. Get up, you friggin' wussy!_

Teeth clenched, O'Bannon rose to his feet. He watched Dean take a shot on net. Crabbe kicked the puck away. George got it and took a shot, but at a bad angle. The puck whizzed past the net and off the boards, where Malfoy got it.

O'Bannon shook off the pain and chased after the Slytherins with the rest of the Triad.

"Malfoy to Goyle. Goyle to Bletchley. Bletchley takes it behind the net. Cut off by Fred Weasley. They both bat at the puck. It gets loose. Urquhart's on it."

Dread gripped every inch of O'Bannon's body as he watched Urquhart bring out the puck, turn to Susan, shoot . . .

"Bones stops it!" Lee blared. "Susan Bones stops a point blank shot from Slytherin's Urquhart! She puts her glove down on the puck to freeze it and stop play with nine-fifteen remaining in the third period."

O'Bannon sighed and smiled as he skated up to Susan, who was being congratulated by Katie and Fred.

"Didn't I tell you you can play goalie? You believe me now?"

Susan nodded enthusiastically.

O'Bannon tapped her leg pads with his stick. So did the rest of the G Line before they headed off the ice, replaced by the Rocket Line.

Susan made three more good saves over the next three minutes. Crabbe also stopped a couple of good shots. The score remained Triad 4, Slytherin 3. O'Bannon's eyes constantly flickered up to the clock.

5:50 left to go. 5:00. 4:30. 4:00. 3:30.

They just had to hold on a little bit longer.

"O'Bannon with a cross ice pass to Fred Weasley. Fred to Bell. She takes the shot. It misses the net. Dean Thomas makes for the puck. So does Ares Urquhart. Ouch! Bodies and boards shake as they reach the puck. They scrum for it. Urquhart gets Dean with an elbow in the face! There's no whistle! Come on, that's a penalty! Now Thomas shoves Urquhart. The ref blows the whistle! Are you joking? You're giving Thomas a penalty, but not Urquhart? Merlin's beard, did you forge your referee's certificate?"

"Lee Jordan!" McGonagall fumed. "One more disparaging remark toward the officials and I will remove you from commentary and give you three nights detention."

O'Bannon skated back to the bench, gripping his stick so tight he threatened to crush. He glanced at the clock. 2:59 to go in the period, and the Triad would be down a man for the majority of it.

Michael, Mireet, Angelina and Tortorov handled the first shift of the penalty kill. Michael won the face-off and tried to clear the puck. Higgs got it on his stick and passed it to Warrington, who passed it to Montague, to Younger. Shot! Susan knocked it away with her stick. Angelina got the rebound and cleared the puck down the ice. She and the other four skaters came off the ice, replaced by O'Bannon, Katie and the twins.

Crabbe corralled the puck and gave it to Bullstrode as Malfoy's line came onto the ice. She passed it to Urquhart before leaving the ice. O'Bannon's eyes widened as Urquhart entered the neutral zone. He made a beeline toward him, angled his body, lowered his torso . . .

The jarring blow rattled his bones. The crowd erupted as Urquhart went flying and spread-eagled onto the ice. The puck squirted away.

George got it. O'Bannon followed him down ice. Only Vaisey stood between them and the Slytherin net.

George passed to O'Bannon. He glanced at the clock. 1:59 left in the period. A goal could ice the game right here.

He passed to George, who sent it back to him. He drew back the stick and hit the puck with everything he had.

It zipped over the net and banged off the boards.

"Dammit!" O'Bannon cursed.

Crabbe retrieved the puck and gave it to Vaisey, who worked his way along the boards. George tried to hem him in. Vaisey sent the puck into the neutral zone, where Goyle got it, turned and passed it to Bletchley. He took it behind the net. Susan craned her neck, keeping an eye on him, anticipating the wrap-around shot. Fred and Katie closed in around the sides of the net.

That's when O'Bannon saw Malfoy move to the front of the net.

"Get on Malfoy!" he screamed as he raced down the ice. "Get on Mal-"

Bletchley fed Malfoy the puck. He sent a one-timer past Susan. The horn sounded. Malfoy raised his arms and yelled in triumph.

The score was tied 4-4 with 1:44 left in the period.

O'Bannon and the rest of the penalty kill unit returned to the bench. Many of the Triad players wore looks of frustration, or shock, or worry.

"Nobody hang their heads!" O'Bannon ordered. "We're tied, we're not losing. This game is still ours. One more goal and we win. We win the face-off, we get down ice, and we bury the puck and beat those snakes. No one worries, no one gets scared. We're the better team, and a minute forty-four seconds from now, we're gonna prove it. Rocket Line. Get out there and do your thing."

O'Bannon tried to ignore the feeling of his shoulders knotting. His hands crushed the boards as Michael and Higgs stood in the face-off circle.

Higgs won the puck. He passed it to Younger.

1:42 . . . 1:41 . . . 1:40.

Younger passed to Warrington. The puck deflected off his stick. He tried to reel it in. Tortorov beat him to it and passed it to Angelina, who passed it to Mireet, who took it down the ice.

1:34 . . . 1:33 . . . 1:32.

The Triad formed a loose half circle in the Slytherin zone, passing the puck back and forth, looking for the perfect shot.

"One minute," Lee announced. "One minute to go in the period."

Mireet to Angelina. Angelina to Michael. Michael back to Angelina. She faked the shot and passed to Ginny. Ginny moved in. Bullstrode skated in front of her.

:49 . . . :48 . . . :47.

She passed to Michael. Michael to Mireet.

:43 . . . :42 . . . :41.

She took the shot. It missed the net by inches and banged off the boards.

:38 . . . :37 . . . :36.

Warrington got the puck and tried to clear it. Tortorov stopped it, then ripped a shot. Crabbe caught it in his glove and held it. The ref whistled the play dead.

Thirty-two seconds to go.

O'Bannon came out with the G Line and the Weasleys on defense. He took the face-off versus Montague. The Slytherin won it and passed it to Bullstrode, who smacked the puck out of the Slytherin zone. George got it in the neutral zone, took a few strides and passed it to O'Bannon.

:28 . . . :27 . . . :26.

He passed it to Katie. Katie to Dean. He took the shot. The puck streaked past the net and hit the boards. Fred and Warrington battled for the puck in the corner.

:23 . . . :22 . . . :21.

Fred won the puck and passed it to Katie. She sent it to Dean, who passed it to O'Bannon.

:17 . . . :16 . . . :15.

O'Bannon eyed the space above Crabbe's left shoulder. He reared back his stick and fired the puck.

Crabbe leaned left. The puck bounced off his chest.

:13 . . . :12 . . . :11.

Higgs batted down the puck with his hand. He took a couple strides forward and fired it between O'Bannon and Katie.

Warrington got the puck and skated past the neutral zone. The Weasleys gave chase.

:08 . . . :07 . . . 06.

Warrington reared back and smashed the puck. It streaked over the ice. O'Bannon held his breath as the black disk zipped toward Susan.

She brought up her stick. The puck banged off the handle and spiraled away . . .

Toward the right side of the net.

_No!_ Dread consumed O'Bannon.

The puck clipped the post and trickled away from the net.

O'Bannon let out a long breath as the horn sounded. He closed his eyes and lifted his head to the sky, the dread draining from his body.

"Thank you, God. Thank you."

He took a few deep breaths, then started to refocus.

They were going to overtime.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	42. Do or Die

**CHAPTER 42: DO OR DIE**

* * *

><p>The raucous noise of the crowd fueled O'Bannon's excitement and anxiousness as he skated toward center ice. He tried to block it out. He couldn't afford any distractions. This was overtime. The first one to score within the five-minute frame would win.<p>

O'Bannon took his spot in the face-off circle opposite Malfoy. He tried to think of some trash talk to piss off the ferret, but couldn't. Just two thoughts dominated his mind. Getting the game-winning goal for the Triad, and keeping Slytherin from doing the same.

The ref stretched out his hand. O'Bannon tensed and waited.

The puck hit the ice. His stick and Malfoy's clacked together. The puck rolled away. O'Bannon muscled past Malfoy and passed to Katie. Urquhart tried to poke check the puck away. Katie put on a little burst of speed to get away from him and passed to George. He dodged an oncoming Bletchley and headed toward the blue line. With both sides playing 4-on-4 in overtime, there was a lot more open space on the ice. More room to maneuver. The chance for faster play. The chance for more scoring opportunities.

"George Weasley passes to O'Bannon," Lee announced. "Urquhart cuts off his shooting lane. O'Bannon gives a back door pass to Bell. She fakes a shot. Passes to George Weasley. He goes to the net. Shoots! Misses! O'Bannon and Malfoy scrum in the corner for the puck. It squirts away along the boards. O'Bannon gets to it. Turns and fires. It misses the net. Vaisey gets the puck and passes it along the boards to Urquhart, who takes it down ice with four thirty-eight to go in overtime."

Fred kept up with Urquhart, denying him a shot on goal. They skated around the boards and behind the net. Urquhart tried to pass to Malfoy. The puck clipped Fred's stick and skipped away. Malfoy moved in to get it. So did Fred. The two collided. Malfoy flailed and landed hard on his back.

The non-Slytherin fans roared with approval.

Urquhart nudged the puck toward Bletchley. He launched it at the Triad net. Susan snagged it with her glove and held it until the referee blew the whistle.

The Rocket Line took over for O'Bannon's G Line. They didn't manage a shot on net. Neither did the Slytherins. The ETA Line then hit the ice for the Triad.

"MacMillan with the shot. Stopped by Crabbe. Goldstein goes for the rebound!"

"C'mon, Anthony!" O'Bannon yelled, anticipation swelling inside him.

"The shot! Oh, I don't believe it," bemoaned Lee. "Crabbe stopped it. He freezes the puck and play stops with two forty-one remaining in overtime."

O'Bannon pounded a fist on top of the boards. Dammit! They were so close to ending this.

_Forget it. Move on._

O'Bannon led Katie and the Weasley twins back on the ice. This time it was him and Urquhart in the face-off circle. The big Slytherin won the puck and passed to Malfoy. He moved into the neutral zone and passed to Bletchley. Miss! The puck banged off the boards. Fred went after it, but Bletchley beat him to it. He sent it to Urquhart. Urquhart to Malfoy. He moved in on net and took the shot. The puck hit off Susan's chest. She slapped it toward George. He passed to Katie, just missing her stick. Vaisey got the carom off the boards.

O'Bannon backtracked. He glanced around the ice, noting the positions of the other Slytherin players. Malfoy drifted back toward the left side of the net. O'Bannon glanced back at Vaisey, whose gaze was locked on Malfoy. He knew what was coming and edged to his left.

Vaisey passed. O'Bannon reached out with his stick and got the puck. He pumped his legs, shooting past Vaisey and speeding down the ice. There was nothing but open air between him and the Slytherin net.

"O'Bannon on the breakaway!" Lee hollered over the roaring crowd. "Urquhart's on him. No way he'll catch him. Jimmy O'Bannon's got this."

His entire focus was on Crabbe in net. He deked left. Deked right. He waited for the right moment to –

Something slammed into his ankle. A _crack _drilled into his ears. Red hot pain shot through O'Bannon's body. He cried out and crumpled to the ice.

"Urquhart hit Jimmy with his stick!" Lee shouted. "Jimmy's down! What a despicable, dirty play by that no good, scum-sucking piece of -"

McGonagall reamed out Lee as O'Bannon howled in pain and reached down for his throbbing ankle. He saw Fred shove a gloved hand into Urquhart's face. The two wrestled until the linesmen broke it up.

"Jimmy!" Alicia knelt next to him. She waved her wand over his leg, bit her lip and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. Your ankle's broken. You'll have to go to the hospital wing."

"No," he groaned, banging his fist on the ice. Even with magical healing, by the time they got him to the castle and Madam Pomfrey did her thing, the game would be over. All the work he put in to form this team. He had led them this far. How could he abandon them now?

"I'm not going."

"Jimmy, you can't play on a broken ankle," Alicia said. "You need to see Madam Pomfrey."

"Bullcrap. Just put a Numbing Spell on my ankle. I'll coach from the bench. But I'm not leaving here until this game's over."

Alicia sighed and shook her head. "Bloody stubborn Yank," she muttered before casting the spell.

A cold feeling wrapped around O'Bannon's right ankle. The pain subsided. Alicia and George helped him to his feet and over to the bench. An air of dread settled over the Triad players.

"Don't worry, guys," O'Bannon said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Jimmy, please," Mireet pleaded. "You must go to the hospital wing."

"Alicia put a Numbing Spell on my ankle. I'll be fine."

"But you're our best player," said Anthony. "What are we going to do if you can't play?"

"Look. Sometimes the player you depend on the most won't always be there for you. You can either do two things. You can quit, or you can step up and do what needs to be done. Are you quitters?"

"No," a few Triad players answered.

"I said are you quitters?"

"No!" the players shouted back.

"Then get back out there, kick their asses, and win this game!"

The players roared back with a, "Yeah!"

O'Bannon hopped inside the bench area on one leg and stood against the boards.

Lee announced the penalties. Urquhart received two minutes for slashing, along with a game misconduct, which equated an ejection. Fred got two minutes for roughing. Both sides would play 3-on-3 for the final 1:58 in overtime.

Slytherin won the face-off and rushed down the ice. Higgs ripped a shot past the blue line. Susan knocked it away toward Mireet. She started up ice when Montague stripped the puck from her and passed to Warrington. He skated toward the net.

O'Bannon held his breath. He wanted to close his eyes, but couldn't.

_Please, please, please . . ._

Warrington took the shot. It sailed over the net and banged off the glass. Tortorov got the puck and passed it to Michael, who passed it to Mireet. Back to Michael. To Tortorov. To Mireet. She slapped a one-timer at the net. Crabbe blocked it.

"One minute," Lee announced. "One minute left to go in overtime."

Katie, Dean and George took the final shift of the frame for the Triad. They managed one shot on net, which Crabbe kicked away. Slytherin had two shots, both going wide. Neither team could get off another shot as the horn sounded.

"That concludes overtime," said Lee, "with the score tied four-four. Now we will have a shootout to determine the winner. Each side will start with three shooters. Whichever side scores the most goals wins. Should a winner not be determined after three shooters, the shootout will continue until we have a winner."

O'Bannon's stomach flipped end over end. He tightened his face, not wanting to show a trace of the nervousness he felt.

"All right, guys." He clapped his hands and turned to his team. "Do or die time. Skaters, just put it in the net. Susan, stop pucks anyway you can. You're doing a great job. Keep it up."

"I will," she nodded.

"Okay, first three up for us . . . Mireet, Katie and Dean. Go get 'em."

The other players shouted words of encouragement as Mireet went out on the ice.

O'Bannon's heart slammed against his chest. He tuned out the crowd noise, even the shouts of the players around him. He gripped the top of the boards and focused on Mireet, who stood at center ice. She turned toward the bench. It took a few seconds for O'Bannon to realize she was looking directly at him. He nodded and gave her a thumbs up. She smiled before getting the puck and skating down the ice.

The tension coiled tighter around O'Bannon's muscles as Mireet got closer to the net. She deked left, then right, then angled to the left. Crabbe leaned in that direction.

Mireet twisted right and took the shot.

"SHE SCOOOOOORES!" Lee hollered. "Mireet Miradeaux gets the goal, and the Triad go up 1-0 in the shootout."

Malfoy took the first shot for Slytherin. He barreled straight toward the Triad net until he got within twenty feet. He angled right, cut left, and took the shot.

"Malfoy scores," said a dejected Lee. "The Triad and Slytherins are tied one-one. Triad's second shooter is Katie Bell."

Every player on the Triad bench leaned over the boards, holding their collective breath, as Katie started toward the Slytherin net. She deked left, right, left, took the shot . . .

"Crabbe kicks it away. No goal. We're still tied at one in the shootout."

O'Bannon's shoulders slumped. Groans rippled up and down the Triad bench as Higgs went next for Slytherin. Just like Malfoy, he came straight down the ice. At the last second he deked a bit to the left and took the shot. He just got it over Susan's arm into the net.

Slytherin now led the shootout 2-1.

More groans went up from the Triad bench. O'Bannon lowered his head. For a moment, he regretted not picking Cormac McLaggen for the team. The game probably would have ended in their favor long before now.

_Or more likely he would have destroyed our team chemistry and we'd have already lost this game._

They would certainly lose if Dean didn't score.

"Thomas comes out of the neutral zone," Lee said. "He goes to right, fakes the shot. Cuts left. He shots . . . SCOOOOOORES!"

The Triad players cheered, many pumping their fists in the air. They slapped Dean on the head and shoulders as he returned to the bench.

Their elation quickly faded as Goyle came out for Slytherin.

O'Bannon shivered. The shootout score was 2-2. If Goyle made this shot, Slytherin would win.

"Here comes Goyle. He dekes left, then right, then left. Cuts to the right. Catches Bones out of position! Goyle shoots!"

A loud _ping_ echoed throughout the arena.

"It hit the post!" Lee screamed. "The puck deflected off the post! It's a metallurgy save as the Muggles say! The Triad is still alive!"

The Triad players, and their fans, cheered like mad as Goyle slammed his stick into the boards, snapping it in two.

O'Bannon chose Angelina for his fourth shooter. She beat Crabbe on the right side and got the goal. The Slytherins countered with Boyana Petrova. She also scored.

For the fifth round, O'Bannon went with Ginny, while Slytherin countered with Montague. They both scored, evening up the shootout at 4-4.

O'Bannon pushed against the immovable boards and glared down at his ankle. Damn friggin' injury. Damn friggin' Urquhart. If not for that Slytherin butthole, he could be out there helping his team.

_Pouting over it won't change anything. Pick a shooter._

He looked down the bench and thought for a few seconds.

"Michael. You're up."

Michael nodded at him. Terry and Anthony slapped his back and wished him good luck. Ginny also wished him luck, tacking on a bright smile as Michael hopped over the boards. O'Bannon shook his head. Seven months ago this guy stood on the sidelines ragging on them for playing a Muggle game. Now he was pinning all the Triad's hopes on him.

"Michael Corner is the Triad's pick for the sixth round of the shootout. Here he comes. Goes to the left. Now the right. Left again. Right. Left. Corner cuts right in front of Crabbe, turns and shoots. HE SCOOOOORES! Merlin's beard, what a goal. Corner just reached out with the stick and flipped the puck over Crabbe's right leg and into the net. A brilliant goal by the Fourth Year Ravenclaw, and Triad leads the shootout 5-4."

The Triad players continued cheering as Michael returned to the bench.

"You're the man, Corner!" O'Bannon pointed at him. "You're the man!"

Michael smiled and gave him a thumbs up just as Ginny leapt on him and hugged him.

Vaisey came out to center ice for Slytherin. The Triad bench fell silent. O'Bannon's gaze shifted from Vaisey to Susan in net.

_You can do this, Susan. You can do this._

"Vaisey starts up ice," Lee announced. "He's not bothering to deke. He's going straight at Bones."

O'Bannon's stomach knotted as Vaisey closed in on the net. When was he going to deke? Which direction?

"Vaisey dekes left. He shoots . . ."

The sound of rubber against leather resounded through the arena.

"BONES CAUGHT IT! SHE CAUGHT IT! THE MATCH IS OVER! THE TRIAD WINS! THE TRIAD WINS!"

O'Bannon screamed his lungs out. So did the other Triad players. So did everyone in the arena. O'Bannon looked around and hugged the closest person to him, who happened to be Alicia.

The team poured out onto the ice, cheering and hugging one another. Using his stick as a cane, O'Bannon led the others out to meet Susan. She had her helmet off. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks as the Triad mobbed her.

"I told you you could do this!" O'Bannon wrapped her in a crushing hug. "I told you!"

Susan said nothing. She just cried as more players hugged her. Even O'Bannon felt his eyes water up. He hadn't been this happy when he'd been part of Blazenrowe Hall's two championship hockey teams. Nine months ago the Triad didn't even exist. None of the wizards and witches around him had a clue about hockey. They had built this team from scratch, worked their asses off, fought through adversity, and won.

O'Bannon didn't think he could feel any happier, until Mireet skated over to him.

"We did it! We won!" She threw her arms around him, squeezed him tight, and kissed him on both cheeks.

Sheer joy consumed O'Bannon.

"C'mon, you lot!" Angelina shouted. "Center ice. Time to salute the crowd."

The Triad skated over to the middle of the rink as the Slytherins headed off the ice, their heads hanging low. The crowd continued to cheer and clap as O'Bannon and the others stood in a circle, banged their sticks on the ice and raised them into the air. The crowd applauded louder.

O'Bannon took a ragged breath as gazed at the hundreds of cheering students. He then turned to his teammates. A lump formed in his throat.

_This is it. We're never going to play again._

Sadness broke through his elation. Then he remembered what Mireet told him the day before. How he had created something special with the Triad, how much all the friendships she had made meant to her.

It also meant a lot to him, and he suspected, to the rest of his teammates.

He smiled as he watched the players, his friends, continue to celebrate.

The game might be over, but deep down, he knew the Triad would endure for a long, long time.

**XXXXX**

_Damn, I'm glad I'm a wizard._

O'Bannon stood outside the hospital wing, gently bouncing up and down. His right ankle felt a little tender, but he could walk on it, no problem. With a combination of spells and potions, it took Madam Pomfrey about forty minutes to mend his broken ankle. Had this happened in the Muggle World, the healing process would take months.

Harkorth, unfortunately, was still laid up. Even in the Wizarding World, concussions could be tricky things. Madam Pomfrey hoped to release him tomorrow.

"I am sorry I could not finish the game, Jimmy," Harkorth had told him a few minutes ago.

"Don't worry about it," O'Bannon replied. "Stuff happens. You made some wicked pissah saves, buddy. We couldn't have won without you."

O'Bannon headed downstairs to the Great Hall, where a reception/celebration was going on. When he walked in, a smattering of applause began.

"There's the man of the hour," Fred said, waving his upturned palms to the ceiling.

The applause grew louder by the second. Triad players hurried over to high-five him or hug him.

"How is your ankle?" Mireet asked.

"Aw, it's fine."

Mireet smiled and hugged him. That's when Ambassador Laribee came up to him.

"A most exciting game, Jimmy." He shook his hand. "I never thought a non-magical game could be so entertaining, but you have opened my eyes."

"Thank you, Ambassador."

"You graduate next year, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Well, you may want to consider working for our Office of Wizarding-Muggle Relations." Laribee smiled. "I'll even put in a good word for you."

O'Bannon's eyes bulged. "Um, wow. Thanks, Ambassador."

Laribee congratulated him again before moving on to talk to other Triad players. O'Bannon stood there, contemplating Laribee's offer. Truthfully, he had no idea what he wanted to do in the Wizarding World after graduation.

Before he could dwell on it further, Professor Burbage strode up to him.

"Mister O'Bannon." She shook his hand vigorously. "Wonderful game. Absolutely wonderful. Did you hear the crowd? They thoroughly enjoyed it. What a wonderful day for the promotion of Muggle culture."

"Thanks, Professor, and thanks for all your help. We couldn't have done this without you."

"Oh nonsense. I just got the ball rolling a bit. You and your friends went out there and had an exciting match. Hogwarts was so blessed to have you this year."

"Thanks, Professor."

When Burbage moved on, Harry, Ron and Hermione came up to him.

"Great game, Jimmy." Harry shook his hand.

"Great, it was brilliant," said Ron, who looked happy talking about anything hockey related for the first time in many weeks. "Especially the way you squashed Malfoy. That was the best part, I mean, besides the win."

"Yes, it was a rather enjoyable game," said Hermione. "Though I think you could do without the fighting."

"Sorry, Hermione. Fighting's been part of this game since man first put stick to puck. That ain't gonna change."

"Ah, Mister O'Bannon. I see Madam Pomfrey has healed you nicely."

He turned to find Headmaster Dumbledore smiling down on him.

"Yeah, she did. The ankle's good as new."

"Splendid. I wonder if I might have a moment of your time."

"Uh, sure."

Dumbledore led him out of the crowded Great Hall. They'd gone a little ways down the corridor before the old wizard stopped and faced him.

"First off, I wish to congratulate you and your team on their victory today."

"Thanks, Headmaster."

"And judging from the crowd's reaction, I believe you have given many wizards and witches a greater appreciation of Muggle culture, and what Muggle-borns can offer our world."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"But most importantly, Jimmy, you took a group of wizards and witches from different houses and different countries, and showed them how to look past those differences in order to unite for a common cause. That was no small feat, given the competitive nature of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"I'm just glad it worked out that way."

"So am I." Dumbledore's tone took on a more serious note. "Because there could come a time when that unity and strength will be needed for something far greater than a game of hockey."

O'Bannon's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore paused, then smiled. "Well, let's hope we never have to find out. Now, I've kept you from your friends long enough. You deserve to celebrate with them. Run along, now."

O'Bannon just stared at the old wizard for a few moments. He thought about asking him for a straight answer, but something told him he wasn't likely to get one.

He thanked Dumbledore and headed back to the Great Hall. More students, teachers and Ministry officials came up to congratulate him. Angelina went around to the Triad, asking them to sign Harkorth's hockey stick, while Fred and George collected a plateful of food for the goalie to help make him feel part of the celebration.

The festivities went on for several hours. Much as O'Bannon enjoyed himself, Dumbledore's words lingered in the back of his mind.

_**NEXT: THE THIRD TASK**_


	43. The Third Task

**CHAPTER 43: THE THIRD TASK**

* * *

><p>Even with final exams, the two weeks following the TriadSlytherin hockey game proved some of the most relaxing for O'Bannon in months. There were no more practices to run, and no more worries over winning. He had more free time on his hands, much of which he spent hanging out with his Triad teammates. They played games of Wizard Chess or Exploding Snap, listened to Quidditch games on the Wizarding Wireless, enjoyed Dean's collection of Muggle CDs, or just talked about stuff. They also helped each other study for finals. O'Bannon would forever be grateful to Anthony, Susan and Tortorov. Thanks to their help, he got an Acceptable on his Potions final. It should have been an Exceeds Expectations, he felt, but with Snape being such a butthole, Acceptable was probably the best he could hope for.

Fred and George also made up for their prank hiatus during the days leading up to the game. Made up for it big time. O'Bannon couldn't count how many students turned into large canaries or gushed boogers or grew duck bills or had been goosed by the statues. He even helped the twins in their prank spree, hexing some of the suits of armor in the corridors to projectile vomit. One of those suits nailed Snape on his way to dinner.

_Serves you right for not giving me an Exceeds Expectations on my exam, you jagoff, _O'Bannon had thought.

The further into June they got, the more the excitement built for the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Every time O'Bannon looked at the Quidditch pitch, the rows of hedges that covered it had grown larger. Many of the conversations he had with his Triad teammates concerned what the champions would face inside the maze. Theories ranged from hinkypunks to Devil's Snares.

He noticed Harry Potter didn't seem as nervous as he had been before the previous tasks. Of course, he had come through them with flying colors and was currently tied for first with Cedric Diggory, so he probably had a lot more confidence going into the third task.

When June 24th finally came around, every conversation at breakfast that morning concerned the final task. Katie was talking about how the maze might be filled with pixies to lead the champions astray when Lee blurted, "Oh bloody hell. Look at this rubbish."

O'Bannon turned to Lee, who was reading a copy of _The Daily Prophet. _"What's rubbish?"

Lee spread the newspaper on the table for everyone to see. The headline read. HARRY POTTER: "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS." O'Bannon scowled when he saw who wrote the article.

Rita Friggin' Skeeter.

Before he could read it, O'Bannon heard Malfoy shouting from the Slytherin table, "Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

O'Bannon looked down the Gryffindor table and saw Ron handing Harry a copy of the _Prophet._

"Oh this is ridiculous," said Katie as she stared at the newspaper. "'He's made friends with werewolves and giants.' She's talking about Professor Lupin and Hagrid. They're not evil monsters."

O'Bannon started reading the article for himself. Several paragraphs dealt with how Harry kept complaining about his scar hurting him, and how that might be a symptom of brain damage. O'Bannon scoffed at that. Harry did not seem the least bit brain damaged to him.

Something else in the article caught his eye.

"What the heck's this about Harry speaking Parseltongue?" He knew from Defense Against the Dark Arts class that Parseltongue, the ability to talk to snakes, was very rare. "I thought only dark wizards could do that."

"Well, Harry's the exception, apparently," Fred said.

"Ron told us about that day in dueling club," George explained. "Harry and Malfoy were paired off, and Malfoy conjured up a snake to attack Harry. Then that great pillock Lockhart sent it flying toward Justin. That's when Harry started speaking Parseltongue, but he told the snake to leave Justin alone."

"Unfortunately," Fred picked up the story. "Most of the school thought Harry was the heir of Salazar Slytherin and was going to attack Muggle-borns."

O'Bannon gave them a baffled look. How could anyone seriously think that when one of Harry's best friends, Hermione Granger, was a Muggle-born?

"We've all known Harry for four years." Alicia looked around at Katie, Angelina and the twins. "He's been our Seeker since his First Year. He's as much a dark wizard as I am Minister of Magic."

O'Bannon looked from the article to Harry. He'd gotten to know him quite well during his time at Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine Harry being a dark wizard, especially since his own parents were murdered by the most notorious dark wizard of all time.

_Who was then killed by Harry._

He shook his head. The article had been written by Rita Skeeter. The hag only knew how to lie and try to ruin people's reputations. He put more stock in the opinions of his friends, who'd known Harry Potter a lot longer than he had, over some damn reporter.

After breakfast, he and the other Sixth Year Gryffindors took – or sat for - their Charms final. For this exam, he received an Outstanding. He'd always done well in Charms, and as a teacher, Professor Flitwick was the exact opposite of Snape.

_And that's it. _He had no more exams, no more school work. Joy swept through him. Now he could just goof off until he left Hogwarts, which would be in less than a week.

The thought gave him pause on his way back to Gryffindor Tower.

He spent the next half-hour in his dorm reading a Dale Brown military thriller before Fred, George and Ginny collected him for lunch. When they entered the Great Hall, Ginny skidded to a stop, mouth agape.

"Is that Mum? And Bill?"

O'Bannon followed her gaze and saw two people sitting with Harry and Ron. One was a tall, thin young man with his red hair tied in a ponytail and wearing an earring with a fang. Next to him sat a plump, redheaded woman. His eyes widened when he recognized her.

"Dude, that's your mom?"

"Yeah." Fred nodded.

"What are she and Bill doing here?" asked George

"Why don't we ask them, you gits?" Ginny walked over to her mother and brother, with the twins and O'Bannon following.

Mrs. Weasley gave all her children hugs before Fred said, "Mum, we'd like to introduce you to our friend from across the pond, the one responsible for that hockey match we were in. Jimmy O'Bannon."

"Um, actually," O'Bannon said. "We already met."

"What?" A surprised look fell over George's face. "When was this?"

"At Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters," Mrs. Weasley said. "He asked me if we had servant elves to carry luggage onto the train. It's so nice to formally meet you."

She wrapped him up in a big hug, which O'Bannon did not expect from a woman he'd only met briefly one time before.

"Fred, George and Ginny have written so much about this hockey sport of yours, and how much they enjoyed it. And my husband, Arthur. Oh, he's simply fascinated by Muggle things. He so wished he could have been at that match."

"Um, thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

When she let go of him, he shook hands with Bill, the oldest of the Weasley children. Even though he worked as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts Bank, the way he looked and dressed made Bill look more like the lead singer for a Muggle heavy metal band.

"So what are you two doing here?" Fred asked.

"The families of the champions were invited to watch the final task," explained Mrs. Weasley. "And well, Harry is family to us."

She smiled and put an arm around Harry's shoulder. O'Bannon knew from Fred and George that the only real family Harry had was his aunt, uncle and cousin who, by all accounts, despised magic in general, and Harry in particular.

He grimaced at the thought. He'd heard stories of Muggle-borns who'd been disowned by their parents, usually because they feared the power their child had or because their religious beliefs made them equate magic with evil. O'Bannon said a quick prayer, grateful for having the kind of parents he did. They had come from Irish Catholic backgrounds. They had had all sorts of worries when they learned he was a wizard. But they never thought him evil, or considered booting him out of the house because he could fly on a broom and turn a rock into a flower pot with a wave of a wand. They loved him, and he loved them.

O'Bannon wished Harry could have the same sort of family he was blessed with.

They talked throughout lunch, with Mrs. Weasley wanting all sorts of details from Harry on the first two tasks, and how he was feeling going into the third task. She then asked O'Bannon for details about hockey, the Salem Witches Institute, and growing up in Muggle Boston. When he told her that his parents were coming to London and that they would fly back to the US, Mrs. Weasley's eyes grew wide. "On one of those _airy-plin _things? Oh you must write to Arthur about your experience on it. He's fascinated by _airy-plins_."

"Um, sure." He wasn't too surprised by the request. Fred, George and Ginny had told him about their father's love of airplanes.

After lunch, Harry took Mrs. Weasley and Bill for a walk around the castle. O'Bannon hung out in the Great Hall with Dean, Seamus, Ernie, Susan and Kurdzeli playing Exploding Snap. In-between finding identical cards and watching them explode, everyone talked about their summer vacation – holiday – plans. Kurdzeli's family was going to see the magical ice crystal falls near Lappland, Sweden. Ernie's family planned to spend several weeks in the Caribbean. Dean and some of his cousins would be enjoying the beaches of Brighton.

O'Bannon stared at the table while the cards magically shuffled themselves. He wouldn't be around next school year to hear all about their vacations, or play hockey with them, or just hang out and play Exploding Snap.

"Oi, Jimmy!" Ernie's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Huh?"

"It's your turn, mate."

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Thanks."

They played for most of the afternoon. When dinner time came round the Great Hall buzzed with talk of the third task. Many students ate quickly, wanting to get out of here and down to the Quidditch pitch.

As the enchanted ceiling overhead began to fade from blue to a dusky purple, Dumbledore rose to his feet from the staff table. Silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes time, I will be asking you to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Will the champions please follow Mister Bagman to the stadium now."

Harry got up. The Gryffindors all along the table applauded him.

"Good luck, Harry." O'Bannon slapped him on the back, hard enough to make him wince.

"Sorry, dude." Damn, sometimes he really didn't know his own strength, especially since he'd grown about half-an-inch and put on about eight more pounds of muscle since coming to Hogwarts.

Harry followed Ludo Bagman out of the Great Hall, along with Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour.

Five minutes later the food, dishes and silverware all vanished from the tables. Many of the students practically jumped out of their seats and filed out of the Great Hall. O'Bannon and his schoolmates walked quickly toward the Quidditch pitch. Anticipation swelled within him. What was in store for the champions? He hoped Harry could overcome it and win the tournament. Wouldn't that be a hell of a story to tell his friends when he returned to Salem?

He frowned for a moment at the thought.

O'Bannon took a seat in the Gryffindor stands, Fred, George and Lee to his left, and Katie, Angelina and Alicia to his right.

"Let's go, Harry!" Fred hollered.

"Yeah, you got this, Harry!" George cheered.

"You do realize none of them have entered the maze yet." Angelina pointed to Harry and the other champions, who seemed to be getting some sort of instructions from Professor McGonagall.

Minutes later, Headmaster Dumbledore's voice boomed throughout the stadium.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is about to begin!"

The stands erupted with cheers and applause. When they died down, Dumbledore continued, "Let me remind you how the points currently stand. Tied in first place, with eight-five points each, Mister Cedric Diggory and Mister Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School."

The combined cheers from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs sent birds from the nearby Forbidden Forest fluttering into the darkening sky.

"In second place, with eighty points, Mister Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute."

More applause.

"And in third place, Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons Academy."

Another round of applause. O'Bannon noted the fact Dumbledore had not mentioned Fleur's point total. Then again, she was so far behind Harry, Cedric and Viktor she needed a telescope to see them. It seemed like Fleur was the equivalent of a last place team, playing out the string until the end of the season.

Bagman stepped forward. "So, on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three, two, one."

He gave a short blast of the whistle, and Harry and Cedric hurried forward into the maze. A couple of minutes later, Bagman blew the whistle again. Krum dashed into the maze. A few more minutes passed before the whistle sounded for Fleur's turn. Bagman then waved his wand. A huge tapestry, similar to the one from the second task, unraveled and floated in the air, showing the maze and the positions of the champions.

O'Bannon leaned forward in his seat. So did most of the Gryffindors around him. He clamped his hands on his knees. He watched Harry dash around the maze, trying to find the right route to the center.

_C'mon, Harry._

Some gasps went up, mainly from the Hufflepuff stands. Cedric had run into a bunch of Blast-Ended Skrewts. They sent a shower of sparks at him, but Cedric deflected them with a combination of spells and got away.

"Look!" Seamus pointed at the tapestry. "Harry's got a boggart."

O'Bannon watched the images of Harry and the boggart face-off. He clenched his jaw, remembering his own boggart experience in Defense Against the Dark Arts class his Third Year. The thing had turned into a wasp. He'd always had a phobia over those insects since being stung by them as a little kid. O'Bannon groaned as he remembered how instead of vanquishing the boggart, he'd tripped over himself trying to get away from it.

Not the greatest moment of his life, and man had he gotten razzed by his classmates over it. He hoped Harry did a better job handling his boggart.

He did, with a Patronus, no less. The Gryffindors broke into wild applause. O'Bannon shook his head. He couldn't believe a Fourth Year student could pull off a successful Patronus. Heck, he'd only started doing them this year, and still struggled to make a corporal Patronus.

Harry continued through the maze. Confidence surged through O'Bannon. Harry was going to win this. He could feel it.

Suddenly a red flash appeared on the tapestry. Voices of surprise rippled through the stadium as flames spread across the tapestry. With a pop, the fire went out, leaving a pile of ashes on the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Lee asked.

O'Bannon shrugged. "I guess we're having technical difficulties, please stand by." One thing he had learned during his six years in the Wizarding World, magic did not always work as advertised.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bagman announced to the crowd. "Our apologies. It would seem something has, er, gone wrong with our tapestry."

"No duh," O'Bannon blurted.

"Wonderful," Fred grumbled. "Now how are we supposed to keep ourselves occupied?"

"Oh, I'm sure we can come up with something amusing." A mischievous grin spread across George's face.

Angelina snapped her head toward them. "If you two pillocks bring out that Whoopee Cushion again, I swear on Merlin's wand I will rip it in half and shove it down both your throats."

From the looks on their faces, Katie and Alicia appeared ready, willing and able to assist her.

Dejected looks fell over the twins' faces. "All right, then," said Fred. "No Whoopee Cushions."

"We promise," George added.

"Though you did remind us of something." Fred poked O'Bannon's shoulder. "Jimmy Boy."

"Yes?"

"Before you leave, we've got to give you some of our joke products to use at Salem."

"We're also giving some to Mireet," George pointed out. "Along with our Durmstrang mates."

"Perfect opportunity to expand our business ventures to The Continent and The States."

"Sure." O'Bannon nodded. "Cool. Thanks."

He turned back to the maze and sighed to himself. He only had a few more days left at Hogwarts, then he'd be on his way back to the US. He wanted to be excited over that. He hadn't seen his family or his friends from Salem for over ten months.

But part of him didn't want to leave Hogwarts. O'Bannon wanted to laugh at that. Back in September, he'd hated it here so much he tried to come up with ways to get himself expelled. He never imagined he'd form a hockey team here, play in a game that made international headlines, and make so many close friends.

Close friends he would have to leave behind.

A streak of red sparks shot up from the maze. Some of the Hogwarts teachers went inside. Minutes later they retrieved Viktor Krum, who looked out of it. A little while later another set of red sparks appeared. This time it came from Fleur Delacour, who looked in worse shape than Krum.

_What the hell happened to them? _he wondered as they were both helped out of the stadium, probably headed back to the castle and the hospital wing.

He looked back to the maze. Only Harry and Cedric remained. One way or another, Hogwarts was assured a win in the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

O'Bannon eyed Fleur, who was being tended to by Madam Maxime. His chest constricted. He turned to the Ravenclaw stands, and a section made up of boys and girls in blue cloaks. He managed to pick out Mireet in the little crowd of Beauxbatons students.

_Why didn't it work out between us? _O'Bannon slumped in his seat. A hole opened in his heart. If only things had gone differently at the Yule Ball. If only Mireet hadn't still been heartbroken over that Marc-Andre jagoff back in France. They could have had at least six great months together.

Now he had no idea if he'd ever see her again.

He lowered his head, images of Mireet running through his head. The Yule Ball. Hockey practices. That snowball fight where they came close to kissing.

_Dammit, dammit, dammit. _He knew he'd never find another girl as beautiful and awesome as Mireet.

O'Bannon closed his eyes, trying to push aside all these depressing feelings. He tried to force himself to accept reality. Much as he enjoyed Hogwarts and all his friends here, America was his home. It was time to –

A loud _pop_ ripped through the air. Harry and Cedric suddenly appeared on the ground around the judges and the Hogwarts staff.

"He's got The Cup! Harry's got The Cup!" Seamus jumped up and pointed to the gleaming blue Tri-Wizard Cup, which Harry clutched in his right hand.

"Harry won!" Katie clasped her hands together. "He's the Tri-Wizard Champion!"

O'Bannon rose and cheered with the rest of the Gryffindors. He high-fived Fred, George and Lee, then hugged Katie.

"Harry Potter is wicked awesome!" O'Bannon shouted. He clapped and smiled wide, watching as Fudge and Dumbledore tried to pry Harry away from Cedric.

_What the hell?_ O'Bannon stopped clapping. His brow furrowed. The judges and teachers stood in a loose circle, their heads whipping around. He noticed Professor Sprout cover her mouth with both hands. Dumbledore and Fudge were still trying to pull Harry off Cedric.

That's when he realized it.

Cedric Diggory was not moving.

"Yo, guys." O'Bannon looked around at his friends. "Something's up."

Fred and George stopped clapping, too. Alicia tilted her head. "What's wrong with Cedric? Is he all right?"

More students stopped applauding. Concerned voices rippled through the stands. Dumbledore pulled Harry to his feet.

"He's dead!" someone in the Gryffindor stands shouted. "They're saying Cedric's dead."

"What?" Alicia blurted.

"That can't be," said Angelina.

Every muscle in O'Bannon's body tensed. Maybe they heard wrong. After all, precautions had been taken to make sure no one died in this Tournament. How could Cedric be dead?

He stared at Cedric, who continued to lie on the ground. O'Bannon couldn't remember the champion from Hufflepuff moving since he suddenly appeared.

_No way. No friggin' way._

"He's dead. Cedric Diggory's dead."

More and more students repeated the words. O'Bannon felt his stomach turn into a cold ball. He continued to stare at Cedric as a man and women, his parents, he presumed, hurried over to their fallen son. Mr. Diggory dropped to his knees and wailed. His wife's body shook as she sobbed.

A hush fell over the stands. Icy pinpricks ran up and down O'Bannon's body. His mind struggled to accept the reality in front of him. Cedric Diggory, a fellow student, was dead. How had it happened? Why did it happen?

He heard more sobbing throughout the stands. Dennis Creevey turned pale and trembled. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil clutched one another. Hermione clutched Ron's shoulder.

O'Bannon barely registered Headmaster Dumbledore ordering the prefects to lead the other students back to their houses. He didn't say a word as he followed the other Gryffindors out of the grandstands. Hardly anyone spoke. Several people did sniffle or outright cry. O'Bannon just felt numb. He hoped beyond hope that this was a bad dream. He'd wake up in his bed. It'd be just another day at Hogwarts. Cedric would be alive.

He didn't wake up. He just continued walking to the castle with the rest of the Gryffindors.

Guilt slithered through him, thinking about all the times he and his friends made fun of Cedric Diggory, calling him a pretty boy or other, harsher names, assuming he was some egotistical spoiled rich boy.

The truth was he'd never gotten to know Cedric. He just assumed the guy was a douchebag.

Now he'd never know what Cedric was like.

Minutes later O'Bannon marched into the castle with his schoolmates and up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. No one went to their dorms. Everyone stayed in the common room. Many students found a chair in some out of the way corner and cried. Several First and Second Year students gathered in little groups, wide-eyed, pale and trembling. Fred, George and Lee stood by the fireplace, all three looking at one another with expressions of shock.

O'Bannon plopped down on a sofa, staring straight ahead. Visions of Cedric's still form stuck in his head.

_My God. My God._

He heard a slight hiccup next to him. He turned to find Katie, holding a tissue, her eyes glistening. He hadn't even realized she'd been sitting beside him.

"Um, you all right?" He grimaced a second later. Stupid question. _Does she look all right, dumbass?_

Katie turned to him and sniffled. "I just can't . . . Cedric. He . . . He was really nice. He sometimes came up to me in the corridors and said I played well, even in matches where we beat Hufflepuff. I just can't . . . I can't . . ."

She broke down. O'Bannon leaned forward and hugged her. Katie's entire body shook as she cried into his shoulder.

He rubbed her back, trying to think of something to say to comfort her.

His mind drew a blank. What did one say at a time like this? He sure as hell didn't know. How could he? He was just a Muggle-born hockey player from Boston. He wasn't cut out for stuff like this.

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	44. New Dawn

**CHAPTER 44: NEW DAWN**

* * *

><p>A heavy air permeated Hogwarts. O'Bannon felt it the moment he woke up, as he walked through the common room and the corridors, and when he entered the Great Hall.<p>

Breakfast, for the most part, was a quiet affair. Except for a few whispered conversations here and there, everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts about what happened last night. O'Bannon still had trouble accepting the reality. Cedric Diggory, a guy just a year older than him, was dead. He'd watched him leave the Great Hall with the other champions, then enter the maze with Harry, perfectly fine. The next time he saw him, he lay dead on the Quidditch field.

Cedric's death, no surprise, made the front page of _The Daily Prophet._ The article had called it, "a horrible accident," but lacked any details.

He noticed none of the other champions had come down for breakfast. Were they still in the hospital wing? Would they be all right?

What in the hell happened in that maze?

Most of the students had finished eating when Dumbledore rose to address them. He asked for everyone to leave Harry alone, and not ask him questions or badger him about what happened in the maze.

The next few days passed slowly. The heavy, mournful air in the castle did not let up. A couple of times O'Bannon saw Cho Chang in the corridors, her pretty face streaked with tears stains, and a couple of her friends comforting her. On one occasion, he went over to her and said, "Cho. I'm, um, sorry about what happened to Cedric."

"Thank you," she replied in a strained voice.

O'Bannon didn't say any more after that. What else could he say? He barely knew Cho. Still his heart went out to her. She'd obviously cared about Cedric a lot. To have him die just like that . . .

He wondered how he'd deal with it if he had a girlfriend who suddenly died. He just hoped he never had to find out.

Cedric's death dominated most of the conversations among the students. One day he and several of his Triad teammates were hanging out near the lake, many of them bringing up theories about what could have happened.

"Um, you don't suppose that Harry . . ." Terry bit his lip, as though hesitant to finish the thought.

"That Harry what?" asked Katie.

"Well, you know, that article in _The Prophet_, the one the day of the third task. It did say that Harry's scar could have affected his brain in some way."

"Oh come on, Terry," O'Bannon snapped. "You don't believe that crap, do you? Rita Skeeter wrote that. That hag doesn't know how to tell the truth. If she said the sky was blue, I'd look up just to make sure."

Terry said nothing, but judging by his expression, he didn't seem to buy O'Bannon's argument.

Michael, Justin and Summerby wore similar looks.

O'Bannon spent the hours before the Leaving Feast packing his stuff. He paused before he started putting his framed photos into his trunk. Two of them he held in his hands, his eyes flickering between them. One picture, which did not move, showed him with his parents. The other, which magically moved, had him with Rosa, Jared and Artimus in front of their dorm at Salem. O'Bannon smiled for the first time in days. He couldn't wait to see his family and friends again. Maybe that would help him move past this tragedy.

When O'Bannon entered the Great Hall for his last dinner at Hogwarts, he noticed his schoolmates were a bit more talkative than they had been in days, though the din of voices was nowhere near the level he'd become used to at meal times. He also noted the black drapes hanging on the wall behind the staff table, probably done as a mark of respect for Cedric.

Karkaroff's seat remained empty. His Durmstrang friends told him their headmaster vanished hours after the final task and hadn't been seen since. It made O'Bannon wonder if he'd had anything to do with Cedric's death. He couldn't see how, since Karkaroff had been with the other judges the entire time.

He then spotted Professor Moody. The DADA teacher had been absent for the past few days. O'Bannon figured, being an ex-auror, Moody may have been looking into how Cedric might have died.

He studied Moody for a bit. The man looked like he'd lost some weight, and his skin seemed a bit paler than normal. O'Bannon also sensed an air of paranoia around Moody, more so than usual, if that was even possible.

Before their food appeared, Dumbledore rose. What few conversations had been going on quickly ended, and the Great Hall became very quiet.

"The end, of another year." Dumbledore's gaze fell on the Hufflepuff table. O'Bannon looked over at Ernie, Susan, Justin and Summerby. All four looked sad and pale, just like the rest of their housemates. Obviously, Cedric's death hit them the hardest.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore. "But I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

O'Bannon rose and raised his goblet. So did everyone else.

"Cedric Diggory," the students said his name in unison.

When they all sat back down, Dumbledore spoke. "Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff House. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play."

O'Bannon swallowed. A feeling of disgust grew within him, remembering all the times he and his friends made fun of Cedric, just because he'd been a rival of Harry's in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He never even bothered to get to know him.

Dumbledore went on. "His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

O'Bannon straightened up. Finally they were going to get some answers.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept through the Great Hall. People stared at Dumbledore in horror and disbelief. O'Bannon couldn't move a muscle.

_Voldemort? Voldemort killed Cedric?_ He couldn't have heard that right. Voldemort was dead? Wasn't he? He knew there were people in the Wizarding World who felt the dark wizard still lived, but in a very weakened state.

But according to Dumbledore, Voldemort was no longer weak.

O'Bannon glanced around the Gryffindor table. Lee stared at Dumbledore, mouth agape. Alicia covered her mouth with her hand. Neville Longbottom and Parvati Patil visibly trembled.

Dumbledore waited for the murmurs to die down before speaking. "The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so, either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as a result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

A wave of bitter cold washed over O'Bannon. Lessons on The Big War from his History of Magic class at Salem played through his mind. He mentally ran through the list of atrocities committed by Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

It was a very long, very horrific list.

Did the world face that again?

"There is somebody lese who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

O'Bannon looked down the table at Harry. Many other heads turned in that direction, too.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

The students again stood and raised their goblets, this time saying Harry's name. At least, most of the students did. Malfoy and several Slytherins remained in their seats, their goblets untouched.

_Bastards._

When everyone sat down, Dumbledore continued, "The Tri-Wizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In light of what has happened, of Lord Voldemort's return, such ties are more important than ever before."

Dumbledore's gaze wandered from Madam Maxime, to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, and finally, surprisingly, to O'Bannon.

He held his breath, meeting Dumbledore's gaze. He recalled the headmaster's words following the hockey game, how the unity and strength he fostered in the Triad might be needed for something far greater.

Had he meant this?

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again, in light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, and weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences in habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."

O'Bannon looked over at Harkorth, Tortorov, Kurdzeli and Velich sitting at the Slytherin table. Their differences in nationality and culture didn't mean a thing to them. They had all become good friends, would continue to be good friends.

He then looked to the Ravenclaw table, to Mireet. How much in common did they have, despite having been born an ocean apart?

_Enough to make me fall . . ._

He clenched his jaw as another bout of regret struck him.

"It is my belief," Dumbledore said, "and never have I hoped that I am mistaken, that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder."

O'Bannon looked to the Hufflepuff table, where Susan wiped at her eyes. His heart went out to her. Nearly every member of her family had been slaughtered by Voldemort and his followers during the Big War.

How many others would suffer that same fate?

"A week ago," Dumbledore said. "A student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

**XXXXX**

When the Leaving Feast ended, O'Bannon and the others filed out of the Great Hall. Hushed conversations went on all around him.

"You-Know-Who back?" he heard Terry. "Dumbledore must be off his nut."

He glared at Terry, not that the Ravenclaw noticed. O'Bannon overheard other conversations which cast doubt on what Dumbledore had said.

"If You-Know-Who really is back," said Padma Patil, "it surely would have been in _The Prophet. _The Ministry wouldn't hush it up."

O'Bannon shook his head. Why did people have so much trouble believing Headmaster Dumbledore? According to many books, the man was one of the greatest wizards of the 20th Century. He had also vanquished another powerful dark wizard, Gellert Grindelwald, back in 1945. Shouldn't the word of a man like that be enough?

When he reached Gryffindor Tower, he started up the stairs to his dormitory.

"Jimmy," Ginny called out to him.

He turned and saw her at the bottom of the stairway. "Yeah?" He walked down to her.

She leaned in, keeping her voice down so no one else could hear. "Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office at eight o'clock."

He furrowed his brow. "Did he say why?"

"No. But he also wanted to see Fred and George, too."

O'Bannon stared at her in silence. Why would Dumbledore want to see the three of them? For a moment, he thought they were all in trouble for the vomiting suits of armor. But he couldn't imagine Dumbledore punishing them for that, their last night at Hogwarts, after the announcement he made at the Leaving Feast.

"Thanks, Ginny."

O'Bannon hung out in his dorm room, reading a book, until about 7:45. He went downstairs, exited the common room and made for Dumbledore's office. When he reached the gargoyle in front of the door, he said, "Cockroach Cluster."

The gargoyle hopped out of the way. O'Bannon walked up the spiral stone staircase until he reached the polished oak door at the top. He banged the brass knocker twice.

"Enter," Dumbledore called from behind the door.

O'Bannon opened the door and stepped inside.

"Headmaster. You wanted to see me?"

"Indeed I did, Mister O'Bannon. Please, have a seat." Dumbledore waved him to a couch near his desk. "We have important matters to discuss."

O'Bannon took a step forward, then stopped in surprise.

Fred, George, Mireet, Harkorth, Harry, Ron and Hermione all sat on the ridiculously long, cushy red sofa. He sat next to Mireet, who gave him a quick smile.

"Well," Dumbledore began. "Mister O'Bannon, Miss Miradeaux, Mister Harkorth. This certainly has been quite a year, has it not?"

"_Oui, _Headmaster," Mireet replied in a subdued voice.

"Had circumstances been normal, I would have brought the three of you to my office to tell you that it has been an absolute pleasure and honor having you attend our humble institution. I doubt there are many other wizards and witches who could have represented their schools, and their countries, as well as you three. Even though your time here was brief, you have left an indelible mark on Hogwarts, and through your hockey team, have forged bonds and friendships that I have no doubt will last a lifetime."

"Thank you, Headmaster," O'Bannon said.

"_Merci, _Headmaster. I appreciate your kind words."

"Thank you, Headmaster." Harkorth nodded to him. "I very much enjoyed my time at Hogwarts."

"I am most pleased to hear that," Dumbledore said. "But I wish heaping praise upon you three was the only reason I had for calling you here. As I said at the Leaving Feast, Lord Voldemort has returned."

Mireet noticeably shivered. Ron went pale.

"These are perilous times we face. As I'm sure you know from your history classes, Lord Voldemort's reign of terror was not confined to our island nation. His followers perpetrated horrendous acts in every corner of the world, including America, France and Eastern Europe."

Mireet closed her eyes and hung her head.

"Even as we speak," Dumbledore continued. "Voldemort is marshalling his forces for a second war. But this time, it is my belief he will not move until he has gathered sufficient numbers of Death Eaters and other allies. This is time we must use to gather our own forces to put a stop to his plans. Unfortunately, the Ministry of Magic refuses to do this."

"I don't get it," O'Bannon said. "Why won't the Ministry do anything to stop You-Know-Who? I thought they were supposed to protect you guys, all of us, from stuff like this."

Dumbledore's shoulders sagged. "That is exactly what they are supposed to do, Mister O'Bannon. But you must remember, during the last war, terrible, terrible things happened. Whole families were murdered. Unspeakable acts of torture and depravity took place. Many witches and wizards still bear the scars, physical and emotional, of that time. There are those who do not want to believe those dark times can ever happen again, and some of them happen to be in positions of power, like Minister Fudge. It pains me to say that Cornelius has been scared into inaction, afraid that admitting Voldemort is back will upset the 'relative peace' of the Wizarding World. Afraid that taking certain steps against Voldemort will make him unpopular and jeopardize his position."

"You gotta be kidding me." O'Bannon scowled. He hadn't thought highly of the British Minister of Magic during his dealings with him before the Triad/Slytherin hockey game. Now his opinion of the man was in the toilet.

"This is inexcusable," Mireet said with breathless indignation. "How can someone in such a position be so irresponsible?"

"Forget this Minister Fudge." Harkorth gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "There are wizarding leaders in other countries who can deal with this."

"Unfortunately, Mister Harkorth," Dumbledore said. "Our Ministry is doing its best to control the flow of information out of Britain. No leader beyond our shores will know the truth behind Cedric Diggory's death, or the grave threat we all face."

O'Bannon's stomach turned into a cold ball. He couldn't believe it. Controlling information? Suppressing information? This sort of stuff happened in places like the old Soviet Union, not in Great Britain, for God's sake!

"That is why we need your help."

"Our help?" O'Bannon stared unblinking at Dumbledore.

"The Ministry of Magic will not tell the rest of the world of Voldemort's return, but you three can. You must try and convince as many of your fellow countrymen and women as possible. But be prepared. You will inevitably go up against those who will refuse to believe. They will be steadfast in their position. You must be just as steadfast in yours."

"I'll do whatever I can back in The States," O'Bannon said.

"I will do my part as well." Harkorth nodded.

"I, too, shall help in whatever way I can," declared Mireet.

O'Bannon looked over at her. He noticed her eyes, her entire face, radiating intense determination. He cranked an eyebrow. There seemed to be something . . . more behind Mireet's desire to help.

"Excellent." Dumbledore straightened in his seat. "But along with convincing your fellow students of Voldemort's return, you should also try and identify which students seem likely to join our cause, and which ones may want to join the dark side. Mister O'Bannon, Miss Miradeaux, report your findings to your respective headmistresses. Mister Harkorth, we shall try to arrange meetings between you and the Weasley twins' older brother, Charlie, who works in a dragon preserve in Romania. Understood?"

"_Oui, _Headmaster."

"Yes, Headmaster," said Harkorth.

"No problem, Headmaster." Jolts of excitement shot through O'Bannon. This kind of cloak and dagger stuff sounded like something out of a Tom Clancy novel. And he'd really be doing it!

"Now." Dumbledore pressed his palms flat on his desk. "Before you three arrived, we discussed certain things." He turned to Harry, Ron, Hermione and the twins. "We agreed that if you decided to help us, you should be made aware of the whole story."

"Whole story?" O'Bannon's face scrunched in bewilderment.

"I'll let Harry explain."

O'Bannon, Mireet and Harkorth all turned to Harry. He fidgeted for a few moments, then looked over at them.

"Voldemort's return," he began. "Well, he's tried it before over the past four years."

For the next ten minutes, O'Bannon listened in silent awe as Harry ran down one of the most incredible tales he'd ever heard. It turned out during Harry's First Year, Voldemort had taken possession of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at the time, Professor Quirrell, and tried to use something called a Sorcerer's Stone to create a new body. But Harry, _eleven year old_ Harry, stopped him because Quirrell/Voldemort couldn't touch him without his skin burning. Something to do with the sacrifice of Harry's mother giving him magical protection.

Even more incredible was what happened to Harry his Second Year. Voldemort had transferred part of his soul into a diary and tried to suck out Ginny's life force in order to physically manifest himself. Not only did Harry stop him, but he also fought and killed a Basilisk. A friggin' Basilisk!

But Harry wasn't done there. He revealed that during his Third Year, he discovered his godfather Sirius Black, whom the Wizarding World believed sold out Harry's parents to Voldemort, was in fact innocent. Another supposed friend, Peter Pettigrew, had actually done the deed.

Oh yeah, Harry also saved Sirius from a hundred Dementors by casting a corporeal Patronus.

_Damn. Just . . . damn. _A kid had done all this. Okay, that kid had been the legendary Harry Potter, who survived a Killing Curse and vanquished Voldemort at one year old. But still . . .

Next came more recent history, from just the week before. Professor Moody had actually been Barty Crouch, Junior in disguise the entire year. Not only that, but the son of the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was a Death Eater!

Chills went up O'Bannon's spine. My God, he'd actually spent the entire school year in the same classroom as a Death Eater?

_And I thought he was an awesome teacher._

Crouch, Junior, according to Harry, had killed his father, right here at Hogwarts, and rigged the tournament so Harry would win. The Tri-Wizard Cup, it turned out, had been a Port Key, which sent Harry and Cedric to a graveyard where Voldemort was resurrected. He'd also cast a spell to destroy the tapestry keeping track of the champions so no one would see Harry disappear.

"So where's Crouch, Junior now?" O'Bannon asked after Harry finished how he escaped from Voldemort.

"Fudge ordered a Dementor to suck out his soul, so no one else can ask him how he helped Voldemort."

O'Bannon slumped back into the sofa. A flicker of doubt rose inside him. Could this all be true? He studied the faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione and the twins, trying to find any hint that they had made up the entire tale.

Their grim expressions told him otherwise.

"I cannot stress this enough," Dumbledore said. "You are involving yourselves in something deadly serious, and I do mean _deadly. _Voldemort and his followers were merciless toward any who opposed them. But you must also realize the consequences for the Wizarding _and _Muggle Worlds should Voldemort win."

O'Bannon swallowed. Bile swelled in his stomach. _What the hell am I getting myself into? _Hell's Bells he'd come to Hogwarts because he thought it would be cool to study abroad for a year.

_I didn't come here to be a resistance fighter. I'm a 16 year old hockey player from Boston, for God's sake._

Then he thought about Dumbledore's last words, the consequences should Voldemort win. He knew from his History of Magic classes that one of Voldemort's goals was the total extermination of Muggle-borns, and eventually Muggles in general. So if Voldemort won, O'Bannon had no doubt he'd be one of the first against the wall.

He didn't like that thought. He didn't like the idea of meekly accepting his death at the hands of some madman. Hell, he didn't want to die at all! But given the choice, he'd rather go down fighting than just stand there and let some friggin' piece of crap Death Eater _Avada Kedavra _him.

"I know there are risks, Headmaster. But I also know Muggle-borns like me and Hermione will be at the top of You-Know-Who's 'To Kill' List if he takes over. If I can do something to help stop that, then I'm in."

"My grandfather was Muggle-born," said Harkorth. "He and his parents had to go into hiding during Grindelwald's reign in Europe. I do not wish that to happen to other Muggle-borns. I will help."

"I feel the same as Jimmy and Miroslav," Mireet said firmly. "I will not stand by and let these horrors happen again."

"Very well." Dumbledore smiled and stood. "Thank you for your help, and good luck to the three of you."

He shook their hands. A minute later they filed out of Dumbledore's office. When they reached the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, Fred, George, Harry, Ron and Hermione started up it.

O'Bannon walked past it.

"Oi, Jimmy Boy," said Fred. "Wrong way."

"No, I was gonna walk Mireet back to the Beauxbatons carriage." He turned to her. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

"That is fine."

Harkorth looked first at O'Bannon, then Mireet. "Um, then I shall see you both before we leave tomorrow. Good night."

The Bulgarian nodded to them and walked off.

O'Bannon and Mireet waited a bit for Harkorth to get further ahead before they proceeded to the large archway that led outside. Before they started down the steps, O'Bannon said, "Mireet. Can I ask you something?"

"_Oui."_

He paused. "Well, um, I just . . . back in Headmaster Dumbledore's office, when you offered to help, it's just . . . I don't know, you just seemed to take it kinda personal."

Mireet's jaw quivered. She looked away from him.

"I'm sorry, Mireet. If you don't want to talk about it . . ."

She stared across the darkened grounds of Hogwarts for several seconds before turning back to him. "No. You are my friend. You deserve to know the truth."

Mireet stepped toward him. "You are right. There is something personal to all this."

After another long pause, she continued. "I was not yet two, and we were visiting my grandparents outside Toulon. It was my parents, me, my sister Monique, and . . . and my brother Markese."

"Your brother? You never told me you had a brother."

Mireet nodded slightly. "One day we all went to _Marche d'Fraychot, _the wizarding shopping district near my grandparents' home. A group of Death Eaters let loose a giant to attack the market. There was a panic. Markese, he was three. He . . . he got scared and slipped from my father's grasp and ran away. Father tried to catch him, but he ran into the giant's path and . . ."

O'Bannon bit his lip. His throat clenched when he noticed Mireet's eyes glisten.

"Father has never forgiven himself for that day. It caused him to drink, a lot. Every year, on July Seventh, Markese's birthday, Father hardly speaks. He spends most of the day in his study. Sometimes when I walk past, I can hear him crying. And Mother, she weeps openly. And I . . . this has gone on all my life. Every July Seventh. I do not know what to do to help my parents. There are times I am not sure how to feel. I never really knew Markese, being so young. But he was still my brother. Then there are times I get angry at You-Know-Who and his murderers for denying me the chance to grow up with my brother. Sometimes, God forgive me . . ." Her jaw quivered. "Sometimes I get angry at my father for not saving Markese."

A tear slid down Mireet's cheek. "When Headmaster Dumbledore offered me this chance to help, I had to take it. I want to avenge Markese's death in some way, and . . . I just don't want any other families to suffer as mine has."

She unsuccessfully tried to suppress a sniffle.

O'Bannon pulled her into a tight embrace. Mireet squeezed him to the point he feared he might suffocate. He didn't care. He continued to hold her, wishing he could do something to take away her pain.

O'Bannon closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Mireet's hair. Would she lose someone else she cared about? Would he? Would he have to do more than just keep an eye on his fellow students at Salem? Would he actually be called on to fight?

A cold tremor went through him. What did the future hold for him? For Mireet? For everyone?

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	45. Goodbyes

**CHAPTER 45: GOOD-BYES**

* * *

><p>O'Bannon drew slow breaths as he looked around his dorm room. No more posters adorned the walls. The dresser and desk had been cleared of picture frames, school books, parchment, quills and ink bottles.<p>

All in all, the place looked empty. Just another sign that he was really leaving Hogwarts.

He walked over to the bed and picked up a cardboard box, his going away present from Fred and George. It continued some of their candy, joke wands, fireworks and a book titled _Theroit's 333 Magical Pranks._ He couldn't help but wonder how appropriate all this was with the threat of Lord Voldemort hanging over the world.

Then again, even in these dark and scary times, people still needed something to lift their spirits.

O'Bannon put the box in his trunk and closed it. He then stuck his finger through Espo's cage and stroked the owl's feathers.

"We're going home, buddy."

Actually, his parents had written him that they planned to stay a few days in London and tour the city. He looked forward to the opportunity. Cedric murdered, Voldemort back, joining the fight against him. It could all be overwhelming at times. He needed to do something normal, something Muggle, to help him forget about it all, at least for a little while.

With a sigh, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving his luggage in the middle of the room. It would all be magically transported to the Hogwarts Express.

O'Bannon came down the stairs and gazed around the common room. He slowed his pace, remembering the celebration that took place here after Harry won the first task. More memories surfaced. Hanging out with friends, playing games or listening to the Wizarding Wireless, holding study groups, watching the Creevey brothers work tirelessly to counter the POTTER STINKS charmed buttons.

He had to force himself to take those last few steps to the portrait hole and exit the common room.

Next he came to the Great Hall, pausing to look inside at the empty house tables. He smiled at the memories of all the meal times, of the meeting to come up with a name for their hockey team, and of course, the Yule Ball.

Shoulders sagging, he trudged toward entrance hall. A beautiful summer's day greeted him when he stepped outside. Students milled about on the lawn, many saying their farewells to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang contingents. O'Bannon spotted Harry talking to Fleur. Far beyond them, Hagrid was helping Madam Maxime hitch two of the giant, winged horses to the Beauxbatons carriage. He just stared at it in disheartened silence.

"Jimmy."

He turned to find Harkorth, Tortorov, Velich and Kurdzeli approaching him.

"Hey, guys. You all set to go?"

"Yes. Our ship is ready to sail," Harkorth said.

"Can you guys get back to Durmstrang without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff. Bah!" Kurdzeli scowled. "He did nothing but sit in his cabin on the voyage here. We had to steer the ship. The man was useless. Durmstrang is better off without him."

Harkorth nodded, then said, "I told them about the meeting in Headmaster Dumbledore's office." He jerked his head back to Kurdzeli, Tortorov and Velich. "They will do whatever they can to oppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Durmstrang has bad reputation with Dark Arts," said Tortorov. "Mainly because of Grindelwald. But there are many at school who are not bad people."

"You proved that to me a long time ago." O'Bannon grinned.

"And you have been a good friend to us all, Jimmy." Harkorth shook his hand. "We will miss you."

O'Bannon exchanged handshakes and back slaps with the four Durmstrangs. "You guys take care of yourselves. Maybe if we're lucky, Dumbledore can stop You-Know-Who before he gets too powerful. Heh! If we were lucky, You-Know-Who wouldn't be around."

"It is what it is," said Velich. "We must cope."

O'Bannon just stared at the big Bulgarian, admiring his stoic attitude. He wished some of Velich's mind-set would rub off on him. No worries. No fears. Just accept what had happened and work to correct it.

With a final wave, Harkorth and the other Durmstrangs headed down to the lake to board their ship.

He turned around, his heartbeat picking up as he scanned the school grounds.

_Where is she? Where is she?_

O'Bannon spotted her, surrounded by Fred, George, Ginny, Katie, Angelina and Dean. He swallowed. _This is it. This is really it._

Taking a slow, deep breath, he headed over to Mireet. She just finished hugging Dean when she saw him. He froze in his tracks. They stared at one another in silence.

"Um, right then." Fred looked around at the others. "I guess we should all get back to our knitting, or some such thing."

Fred and the other Brits said a final good-bye to Mireet and left them alone.

They continued to hold each other's gazes. O'Bannon took a ragged breath, remembering how it felt to hold Mireet when they danced at the Yule Ball, how his cheeks tingled every time she kissed them.

How he just liked being around her.

Tears stung the corners of his eyes. He clenched his jaw. No way would he cry. He was a guy, after all.

O'Bannon crossed the short distance between him and Mireet. "I can't . . . I can't believe this is it."

"Neither can I." Mireet's voice quivered.

"Mireet, I . . . you helped make my time here unforgettable. You're just . . . you're such an awesome and beautiful girl, and I'm glad I got to know you."

Her eyes glistened with tears. "I . . . I can't imagine what this year at Hogwarts would have been like had I not met you. I had so much fun playing hockey, and at the Yule Ball, and . . . and just being with you. I'll miss you so much."

Suddenly they were in each other's arms. Mireet pressed her face into O'Bannon's shoulder, stifling a sob. He hugged her tighter, gently stroking her hair, not wanting to let go of her.

"Ahhh, Mireet?" Someone spoke hesitantly nearby.

They broke their embrace and looked to the right. Fleur Delacour stood a few feet away.

"Sorry, but Madam Maxime says we are ready to leave."

Those words by the half-veela felt like a spear through O'Bannon's heart.

"_Oui. Merci, _Fleur."

Fleur smiled to her, then bowed slightly to O'Bannon before heading for the Beauxbatons carriage.

He turned back to Mireet. They took hold of each other's hands.

"Bye, Mireet." He stared into that beautiful face, a face he'd likely never see again.

If that was the case . . .

Mireet opened her mouth, as if to say something.

O'Bannon lifted his head, leaned forward and kissed her. He felt her stiffen from surprise for a moment. Then she relaxed. Elation flooded O'Bannon as their lips remained pressed together.

When he broke the kiss, he said, "Um, sorry. I, um, I had to do that. I hope you're not offended."

Mireet smiled at him. "I would have been offended if you did not."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"_Au revoir, _Jimmy." She squeezed his hand.

"_Au revoir."_

Her hand slipped out of his. She backed away, then turned and headed for the carriage, a fist pressed against her mouth.

Minutes later, the horses flapped their wings and galloped across the grounds. O'Bannon watched the carriage rise into the air. Many of the students around him waved to it. He just stared at the carriage, the hole in his heart growing larger and larger. Before long the carriage and its horses were nothing more than a dark speck in the sky.

Then they were gone.

O'Bannon swallowed against the lump in his throat. He couldn't help but feel he'd let something good, something wonderful, slip form his grasp.

A hand rested on his shoulder. He turned to find Katie giving him a sympathetic smile.

"C'mon, Jimmy. It's time to go."

**XXXXX**

They rode the horseless carriages to Hogsmeade station and boarded the Hogwarts Express. O'Bannon sat in a compartment with Fred, George and Lee, his mind still on that kiss with Mireet.

_We could have done that a lot more if . . ._

He groaned. When was he going to stop torturing himself over what might have been?

Probably not for a long time.

The train pulled out of the station. O'Bannon looked out the window, staring past the wooden buildings of Hogsmeade to the spires of the castle reaching toward the sky.

_So long, Hogwarts._

"Yup, take a good look at it, Jimmy Boy," Fred said. "No more Hogwarts for you. It's back to the boredom that is the Salem Witches Institute."

"Now, Fred. Why do you think we gave Jimmy here the gift we did? To liven things up when he gets back to Salem."

O'Bannon chuckled, thinking about which of _Theroit's 333 Magical Pranks _he might use next school year.

"Thanks, guys."

"Oh, think nothing of it." George gave him a dismissive wave. "Just be sure to put that book to good use."

"I'm not just talking about the book. I mean thanks for being my friends. The way the school year started off for me, I didn't think anyone would be disappointed to see me go back to the US."

"That's because it took a while for everyone to see what a cool guy you are," Fred said.

"Well it wouldn't have happened if you guys weren't interested in having me show you how to play hockey. I owe you big time for that."

"Well we owe you, too, Jimmy," Lee said. "We're all part of history because of you. The first Muggle game to be played at Hogwarts. You three played in it, I announced it. Bloody hell, we'll probably have our own section in the next edition of _Hogwarts: A History."_

"Imagine that." Fred folded his arms and leaned back, a wondrous look in his eyes. "The four of us, part of Hogwarts history, for something other than an incredibly outstanding prank."

"Mum'll be so proud." George's expression mirrored Fred's. "And here she thought we'd never amount to anything."

"Too true, George."

"And we've got you to thank for it, Jimmy Boy." George smiled at him.

"Aw, c'mon. We all had a part to play in this."

"Maybe," George said. "But who was it who thought about forming a hockey club? Who was it who actually went through with challenging Malfoy and the rest of those Slytherin gits to a match? Who was it who led us?"

"Gosh, George, could it be some Yank exchange student who goes around saying things like _Haag-waats _and _waah-dah_ and _wicked pissah?"_ Fred did a horrible impersonation of O'Bannon's Boston accent.

"Ha-ha." He gave Fred the finger.

"Why yes, Fred, it would be him." George's gaze shifted to O'Bannon. "Mate, it was a blow to us and a lot of others not to have Quidditch this year because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. You gave us something to do while Harry and the other champions tackled dragons and mermaids and such. We made friends with people we didn't know that well, or didn't know at all. This year wouldn't have been the same without you."

Both Fred and Lee nodded at that.

"Back at you, man." He leaned forward and slapped hands with George.

They continued to chat until the lunch trolley arrived. O'Bannon was halfway through his corn beef sandwich when a short, slender girl with long golden blond hair framing her angular face appeared in the doorway. She had Ravenclaw robes and a prefect's badge.

"Hello, Lee."

"Janice." Lee's eyes lit up. "Hi. Finished with your prefect duties?"

"Uh-huh. I just ended my last patrol a couple of minutes ago. I was wondering if you'd like to join me in my compartment for the rest of the trip."

"Of course I would." Lee jumped out of his seat and grabbed his bookbag. He then stopped and looked at O'Bannon and the twins. "Oh. Sorry. Guys, this is Janice Lonsberry, Fifth Year Prefect from Ravenclaw. Janice, this is Fred, George and Jimmy."

"Hello." She smiled at them. "Nice to meet you all."

They replied in kind.

"Janice and I got to talking after the hockey game," Lee told them. "Said she really enjoyed my commentary and, well, we hit it off. Bye now."

He left the compartment and followed Janice down the corridor.

"That git!" Fred blurted. "He never told us he had a girl."

"Will wonders never cease," George said.

"I can't believe he didn't tell us. We're his best mates."

"He probably thought you'd try to take the Mickey out of him." O'Bannon's brow furrowed. He wondered if he'd keep dropping these Briticisms back in The States.

"Well of course we would," Fred replied. "He is our friend, after all."

O'Bannon couldn't help but chuckle.

"So what do we do while Lee's getting better acquainted with his new squeeze?" asked George.

Fred shrugged. "What say we wander about and see what mischief we can manage? You in, Jimmy Boy?"

"Why not? I'm heading back to America. It's not like they can give me detention if we get caught."

"That's the spirit." George pumped his fist.

They walked from one car to the next. When they reached their fourth car, Fred came to a halt, as did George a second later.

"Yo, what's up?" O'Bannon peered around them. His jaw clenched.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle stalked down the corridor, heading for the next car.

"Bet they're up to no good," George noted.

"It's Malfoy and his pet trolls," said O'Bannon. "They're always up to no good."

"And their usual targets are Harry, Ron and Hermione." Fred turned to them and jerked his head toward the Slytherins. "C'mon."

They followed Malfoy and his goons into the next car. Malfoy checked the compartments before stopping at one and sliding the door open.

"Very clever, Granger. So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."

O'Bannon shook his head. At least one good thing about leaving Hogwarts was he'd never have to put up with Malfoy, or any other jagoff from Slytherin, again.

"Trying not to think about it, are we?" Malfoy continued. "Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out!" came the unmistakable voice of Harry Potter from inside the compartment.

Fred groaned. "Bloody hell. Don't you think Harry's entitled to a nice, peaceful return trip, after everything he's gone through?"

"I couldn't agree more," said George.

"Ditto," O'Bannon added.

"Shall we do something about it?" asked Fred.

"Yes." George pulled out his wand. "Let's."

O'Bannon and Fred got out their wands as Malfoy launched into a rant.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we first met on this train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this! Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now that the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well, second. Diggory was the f-"

Bright lights and sharp cracks filled the compartment. O'Bannon blinked his eyes a couple of times to clear up his vision. He looked to the floor and found Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all lying unconscious. Goyle, in fact, had massive nosehairs growing from his nostrils and wrapping around his head.

_Aw, dammit. I was aiming at Malfoy._

O'Bannon and George followed Fred into the compartment. Inside were Harry, Ron and Hermione, all with wands raised.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to." Fred stepped on Crabbe as he entered the compartment, while George was careful to tread on Malfoy on his way in. O'Bannon considered adding his footprint on the ferrety little prick, then looked at Goyle, and remembered how he decked him during that one hockey practice with the Slytherins.

He stomped on Goyle's stomach.

"Oops. Sorry."

"Interesting effect." George stared at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd," George said lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here. They don't add much to the décor."

O'Bannon, George, Harry and Ron, kicked, rolled and pushed Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle all the way to the end of the corridor and stacked them in the corner. They headed back to their compartment when O'Bannon stopped, turned, and flipped the three Slytherins the finger.

"Muggle-borns rule!"

When he returned to the compartment, Fred had started a game of Exploding Snap. Halfway through their fifth game, Harry asked the twins about who they had tried to blackmail. They launched into their tale of trying to collect their winnings from the World Cup from Ludo Bagman.

"Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins," George explained. "Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" asked Harry.

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win," said Harry. "Well, I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold."

"Nope." George shook his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

O'Bannon groaned. Between Fudge and Bagman, he wondered if the Ministry of Magic had any high-ranking officials who weren't dumbasses.

During their sixth game, he asked what Malfoy meant about catching a reporter. Hermione pointed to a jar she said contained Rita Skeeter in her Animagus form of a beetle. That had been how the hag got all sorts of information from inside Hogwarts after being banned from the school. Hermione had told Skeeter to not write anything more for _The Prophet _for a whole year, otherwise she'd spill the beans on her being an unregistered Animagus.

O'Bannon just stared at her, impressed, and a little scared. For a bookworm, Hermione had one hell of a mean streak.

Before he knew it, the Hogwarts Express slowed as it pulled into King's Cross. O'Bannon, Ron and Hermione struggled out past the pile of flesh that was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Fred and George hung back, having some sort of animated conversation with Harry. They finished a couple of minutes later and joined them outside the train, along with Ginny.

"We put a little something extra in your going away present," Fred told O'Bannon. "Enchanted postcards. You have to find a hockey-related symbol somewhere in the picture. Tap it three times with your wand and say a codeword to show the real message. The first codeword is 'Bruins.' If we need to tell you something important, or vice versa, we'll use those postcards."

"Sorry for all the secrecy stuff," said George. "But the way the Ministry is forcing _The Prophet_ not to mention anything about You-Know-Who's return, we figure it's only a matter of time before they start monitoring owls and Floo calls."

O'Bannon shook his head. "My God, I can't believe all this fascist crap."

"You remember what Dumbledore said," Hermione said. "Fudge will do anything to stay in office."

"Of course." Ron scowled. "Because his job is more important than protecting all of us from You-Know-Who."

"Don't worry, guys." He looked around at the Brits. "I'll keep you all updated on how things are going on my side of the pond."

"Just be careful, Jimmy," Harry warned. "You know what happened with Cedric. This isn't a game."

"I know that, Harry. But like I said, I'm a Muggle-born. I've got no choice but to get involved in this. It's you guys I'm worried about. This is You-Know-Who's home turf."

"No, this is _our_ home turf," Fred said.

"Lord Bum-licker is just an unwelcome guest," George added.

"One whom were going to give the boot, too."

"Him and all his Death Eater scumbags."

O'Bannon couldn't help but smile. He then took a deep breath and looked around at them all. "Well, I guess this is it. It's been a blast hanging with all you guys. Take care of yourselves, and remember. We're a team. Always have each other's backs."

"We will, Jimmy." Ginny nodded. "You can count on that."

He exchanged vigorous handshakes and hugs with the Brits. When he finished, he spotted Mom and Dad nearby. He waved, and they waved back.

"C'mon, guys. Let me introduce you to my parents."

O'Bannon started over to them, smiling wide with each step.

"Hey, Mom. Dad." He smiled and hugged them both.

"Hello." Mom hugged him tight. "Mm, we missed you so much."

"Same here." O'Bannon then introduced his parents to Fred, George and the others. He noticed a rather disapproving look on Mom's face as she shook hands with the twins. It didn't surprise him too much, considering all the letters Professor McGonagall sent to his parents when he got in trouble, usually in the company of Fred and George.

_Mom must think they're juvenile delinquents._

More of his friends came over to meet his parents and say a final good-bye. Angelina. Katie. Terry. Michael. Ernie. Susan. His stomach dropped with each good-bye. He'd made so many good friends here in Britain. It seemed inconceivable that he may never see them again.

_No way. Somehow, some way, we have to get together again._

"I'm so glad you were able to make a lot of friends at Hogwarts," Mom said as they started for the wrought-iron archway that would take them back to the Muggle train station. "I was so worried after getting that one letter from you."

"Eh, I just had a run of bad luck the first few weeks. Everything turned out fine. More than fine."

"Looks like you had an interesting time at Hogwarts," Dad said.

"Yeah. Real interesting." He noticed his voice drop off as memories of Cedric Diggory lying dead on the Quidditch field and Dumbledore's announcement about You-Know-Who ran through his mind.

"Are you all right, Jimmy?" Mom gave him a look of concern.

His face tightened. Damn. Had she picked up the tone in his voice?

He forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

Mom continued to look at him, as though trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not.

Nervousness twisted his insides. Could he keep this up the whole summer? Could he hide all his worries and fears over Voldemort's return from his parents? Part of him hated having to keep something this major from them. But there was no way he could tell them. They'd become comfortable – for the most part – with their son being part of the Wizarding World. If he told them the most powerful dark wizard ever was back, they'd freak.

Besides, much as he loved his parents, what could they do in this instance? What advice could they give him about living through a war, maybe one day having to fight in a war?

For something like this, he was on his own.

_No, I'm not. I've got other people I can turn to._

_**NEXT: THE CONCLUSION**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_Now that FFN had added the image manager to allow us to have "covers" for our stories, I'd like to take advantage of it. Unfortunately, I have no artistic ability whatsoever. If anyone out there feels inspired to create a cover for this story, or any of my other stories, please PM me about it._


	46. Home

**CHAPTER 46: HOME**

For as long as he could remember, Jimmy O'Bannon loved history. Learning how decisions and actions from previous decades and centuries helped shape the world today, the personalities of the people involved in those events.

London was a place full of history. Trafalgar Square, the Tower of London, St. Paul's Cathedral, Buckingham Palace. O'Bannon's parents took him to see all of them, and he enjoyed it.

For the most part.

Sometimes he looked around at the people in his tour group, or who were just walking throughout the city. None of them had a clue of the darkness gathering around them.

At one point, when he was at Trafalgar Square, he shivered, imagining all the buildings around him reduced the smoldering rubble, and the people lying amongst it, dead. Just like Cedric Diggory.

Would that be the fate of London if Voldemort won? And Paris? And Moscow? And New York?

And Boston?

Time and time again he wondered if he was cut out for this. Right now Dumbledore only wanted him to convince his fellow students at Salem of Voldemort's return, and see which ones might stand against the dark wizard, or join him. But what about after graduation? What if Voldemort attacked openly? He knew from History of Magic class, and from Rosa's and Jared's parents, that the Big War wasn't like the wars he saw on TV, with the fighting thousands of miles from his living room. Voldemort and his followers attacked _everywhere!_ Villages, market places, schools, individual homes. There was no single battlefield.

Could he actually take on a Death Eater?

The day before they were to fly home, O'Bannon's parents took him to the Imperial War Museum. Instead of being fascinated by all the exhibits, he felt apprehension with every step he took. All the tanks and planes and rifles and missiles on display only reminded him of the reality he, and everyone else in the Wizarding World, faced.

_Why is this happening? Why can't Voldemort be dead?_

He just had to hope Dumbledore and his allies could stop the dark wizard before things got really bad.

_And what if they can't?_

Dread crushed his stomach as he walked past a row of framed photographs. He barely glanced at them, until he came to one of Supreme Allied Commander General Dwight D. Eisenhower. Beneath the photo was a plaque titled, GENERAL EISENHOWER'S LETTER TO THE ALLIED INVASION FORCE, JUNE 5TH, 1944.

O'Bannon stopped and read it.

"_Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force!_

"_You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers-in-arm on other Fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed people's of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world._

"_Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely._

"_I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full Victory!_

"_Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessing of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking."_

Chills went up O'Bannon's spines as those words echoed in his mind. He thought of the soldiers who had read that letter before storming the beaches of Normandy. How many had been just like him? Regular guys, probably just a few years older than him. They'd been farmers or cab drivers or bartenders or mailmen, or in the case of Ted Williams and Milt Schmidt, professional athletes.

O'Bannon had even heard of teens his age, even younger, who lied about their age so they could fight the Nazis and the Japanese.

They knew what was at stake. They knew the risks, and still they went to war.

If those men could do that fifty-plus years ago, surely he could.

It wasn't like he had a choice.

He took a breath, burning the words into his brain, letting them fill him with confidence, and more importantly, hope. A smile formed on his lips. He doubted General Eisenhower could have imagined his words on the eve of D-Day would apply to another war, in a whole other world, decades later.

O'Bannon walked away, taking one final glance at Eisenhower's photograph.

"Thanks, Ike."

**XXXXX**

The next morning O'Bannon and his parents woke up early, very early, so they could catch their 6:50 flight out of London's Heathrow Airport. They had a two-and-a-half hour layover in Dublin to switch planes, then began seven-hour trip back to the United States. He passed some of the time talking about some of his experiences at Hogwarts – that didn't involve the third task or Lord Voldemort – with his parents. Mom seemed particularly interested in Mireet, and why he hung around "those Weasley twins" when all they did was get him in trouble.

"C'mon, Mom. They didn't get me in trouble all the time."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy her.

O'Bannon read part of a Tom Clancy paperback, ate the lunch served by the flight attendants, which was tolerable, and watched the in-flight movie, _The Brady Bunch Movie, _which he actually enjoyed.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the captain's voice came over the loudspeaker. "We are beginning our descent into Boston's Logan International Airport. Please return to your seats, fasten your seatbelts and put all tray tables in their upright position. We should be on the ground in about twenty minutes. Current weather in Boston, partly cloudy, with a temperature of seventy-seven degrees."

A jolt of excitement went through O'Bannon. Not long now before he was home.

He looked out the window, watching the thick white clouds go by. His thoughts turned to Jared, Rosa and Artimus. Merlin's beard, it had been nearly a year since he saw them. As much as he missed his friends in Britain, he was chomping at the bit to see his friends in America. He had so much to tell them about his time at Hogwarts.

Both the good and the bad.

Nearly eleven hours after taking off from Heathrow, their plane touched down at Logan International.

"Home sweet home, Jimmy." Dad slapped him on the shoulder.

"Yup." He bounced in his seat a little, anxious to see the Boston skyline again, along with Fenway Park, the new Boston Garden, Freedom Trail, Boston Common and the sailboats and rowers in the Charles River.

Most importantly, he couldn't wait to be back in his house again.

They exited the plane, retrieved their luggage, and made their way through the terminal. They were heading to the walkway leading to the parking garage when O'Bannon spotted a group of people ahead him.

"No way." He slowed, mouth agape. "No friggin' way."

Jared, Rosa and Artimus all smiled at him, with Jared holding up a crude handmade sign that read WELCOME HOME JIMMY. Behind them stood Rosa's parents and Jared's parents.

"Oh my God." O'Bannon started toward them. "I can't believe you're here."

Rosa bounded over and leaped on him. "Jimmy! Merlin's beard, I missed you!" She pecked him on the cheek and gave him a suffocating hug.

"I missed you, too."

Rosa released him and looked him over. "Did you get bigger?"

"A little. I was doing a lot more lifting this year." He flexed his right arm.

"Yeah!" Jared strode over to him. "The ladies aren't gonna be able to keep their hands off you now."

O'Bannon laughed and clasped hands with Jared. They both pounded one another on the back. "Good to see you again, bro."

"You too, man. Welcome home."

O'Bannon then turned to Artimus. "Art. Glad you made it here." He also clasped hands with him and pounded his back, though not as hard as he did with Jared.

"My step-mom convinced my father to let me come, and we side-along Apparated with Jared's parents and Rosa's parents."

O'Bannon nodded. Normally Ulysses Rand forbid Artimus from visiting him in the Muggle World. He only relented whenever his trophy wife of the moment wanted some alone time.

The Infantes and Diazes hugged or shook hands with O'Bannon before greeting his parents.

"Thank you for welcoming Jimmy back," Mom said.

"Oh, it's the least we can do, Ellen," said Mrs. Infante. "Besides, I don't think these three could wait another minute to see him again."

"Hey, can they come back to the house with us?" O'Bannon asked his parents.

"I don't have a problem with it," Dad answered, then looked at the Infantes and Diazes. "So long as it's okay with you."

"Of course it's okay." Mr. Diaz nodded. "These four have a lot of catching up to do. Just Floo us when you're ready to come home."

"You got it, Dad," said Jared.

The Infantes and Diazes bid their farewells, then when off to find a secluded place where they could Apparate. O'Bannon followed his parents to their minivan, with Rosa, Jared and Artimus in tow.

"So, guys," Dad said as they turned onto I-93. "How does pizza sound for dinner?"

"Ooooh yeah!" O'Bannon grinned wide. Much as he enjoyed the food at Hogwarts, pizza had not made it onto any wizarding menus. Man, he was jonesing for a few slices.

"Maybe we can do some Dunkin' Donuts for dessert," Jared suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.

"I think we can swing that, too."

"Yes!" Jared raised both arms. "You rule, Mister O'Bannon!"

O'Bannon couldn't help but chuckle. Jared's Dunkin' Donuts obsession never ceased to amuse him.

For the remainder of the trip, his friends grilled him about his year at Hogwarts, with Rosa asking, "So how cute was Harry Potter?"

"Man, how should I know?"

"Yeah, Rosa." Jared shook his head. "Jimmy wasn't looking to make time with Harry Potter. He had his sights set on that tall French witch. What was her name again?"

"Mireet," he muttered, then stared out the window, the smile fading from his face.

_Am I ever gonna see her again?_

"So what was she . . . ouf!" Jared got cut off when Rosa elbowed him in the side, gave him a stern look and shook her head. She then gave O'Bannon a sympathetic smile.

Dad stopped off at a Dunkin' Donuts on the way home. When the minivan pulled into the driveway, O'Bannon grinned wide as he took in the red, two-story clapboard house in front of him.

_Home._

They went inside. While Dad called a nearby pizza place, O'Bannon led his friends upstairs to his room.

"We're just gonna chill out until the pizza comes," he told his parents.

"Okay, Jimmy," Mom answered.

O'Bannon bit his lip. Chilling out was the furthest thing on his mind right now.

"Take a seat, guys," he told them when they entered his room. "We gotta talk."

Rosa and Jared sat on the bed, while Artimus took the chair at his desk.

O'Bannon closed the door, his hand still gripping the knob. He closed his eyes, gathered his thoughts and turned to face them.

"There's something I gotta tell you. I couldn't say it in front of my parents." He paused. "Not everything was fun and games over at Hogwarts. Something bad . . ." He snorted. "Bad. This is so far beyond bad."

"You-Know-Who's back," Rosa said.

O'Bannon's eyes widened. "You know?"

"Of course we do," said Jared. "Our parents told us."

"They worked with a few anti-You-Know-Who groups during the Big War," Rosa explained. "Some of those people got in touch with them the day after that kid at Hogwarts got killed."

"Well that's good. Maybe they can convince the Department of Magic You-Know-Who's back, because Britain's dumbass Minister of Magic just wants to bury his head in the sand and ignore the whole damn thing."

Jared frowned. "Sorry to disappoint you, dude, but that ain't happening."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I wish."

"But your Mom's an auror. And Rosa, both your parents are aurors."

"Yeah," she said. "But they're aurors without any proof."

Anger lines dug into O'Bannon's face. "Headmaster Dumbledore said it. What, the word of one of the greatest wizards in history isn't good enough?"

"Not in this case," said Rosa.

"Okay, so what about the kid who actually blasted You-Know-Who's ass, Harry Potter?"

Jared grimaced, then turned to Artimus. "Yo, Art. You better show him."

Artimus nodded, then pulled a copy of _The All-Seeing Eye_ from his pocket. "Look at the international section."

O'Bannon took the newspaper and turned to the appropriate page.

"Aw, bloody hell." He scowled at the headline.

**WIZARDING HERO SUFFERING FROM DELUSIONS?**

_Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. For years he has been considered a hero to the Wizarding World. But stories are surfacing out of Potter's native Britain that all the fame has gone to the 14 year old wizard's head. Following his successful completion of the resurrected Tri-Wizard Tournament, a magical contest involving students from Hogwarts School, Beauxbatons Academy and Durmstrang Institute, Potter began making up wild stories about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. _

"_These claims are completely false," said British Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. "Clearly Harry Potter enjoyed all the attention that came with the Tri-Wizard Tournament a bit too much. He does not want it to end. But to make up a lie like this goes beyond irresponsibility."_

_The followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named committed numerous atrocities, not only in Britain, but in dozens of other countries, including the United States, during the Big War. But Minister Fudge reassured the magical public that You-Know-Who is not back._

"_All is well in the Wizarding World."_

O'Bannon didn't read the rest of the article. He crumpled up the newspaper and threw it on the floor.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" He exhaled an angry breath. "This is bullcrap! I was around Harry after the third task. I saw how he was. He didn't even want to be in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Rita Skeeter ran hit pieces on him. He was miserable for days after Cedric Diggory got killed. Trust me, the last thing he wanted was attention."

"Whoa, whoa." Jared held up his hands. "Ease up, man. We believe you."

O'Bannon drew a calming breath. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you guys."

"We know," Rosa said. "But now you see what the problem is. This Fudge guy may be a dumbass, like you said, but he's still the Minister of Magic over there. He's _the_ top official for Wizarding Britain, and lots of people are gonna believe him over a fourteen year old kid and a school headmaster, no matter how famous they are."

"And it's like my Mom and Dad said," Jared chimed in. "There are people who don't want to accept the possibility You-Know-Who could ever come back."

"Then their idiots!"

"Yeah, maybe they are. But you've heard all the stories from our parents about what it was like during the war. And my brother, Esteban. I mean, he was just a little kid back then, but he's told me he remembers everyone being scared, like, all the time. Some people, they just don't wanna believe that can happen again."

"Well it can, and it will if we don't try to yank people's heads out of their asses."

"What do you mean?" Artimus asked.

O'Bannon told him about his meeting the Dumbledore the night before he left Hogwarts.

"He wanted me to do two things. One, try to convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who is back. Two, try to identify students who may want to fight You-Know-Who, and students who may want to join him. And that's where you guys come in."

He took a breath before continuing. "You're my best friends. Hell, you're my bros – and sis." He flashed a brief grin at Rosa. "I'd like for you guys to help me."

"We're in," Rosa and Jared blurted a split-second apart.

"Yo, guys, hear me out. Dumbledore said this isn't a game. Who knows what else we may have to do? We may have to actually fight one day, and a lot of people got killed fighting You-Know-Who the last time."

"Jimmy, we both grew up with parents who fought in the Big War." Rosa nodded to Jared. "We know better than most people what'll happen if You-Know-Who wins. There's no way we want to live in a world under his rule, if the evil slimebucket even let's us live."

"Yeah, what she said." Jared pointed to his cousin. "We're with you, man. Whatever you want, just say it."

O'Bannon nodded, then turned to Artimus. "Art, what about you?"

Artimus shifted in his chair, his eyes flickering in all directions. "Um, yeah. Yeah, okay. My father can't find out about it, though. He believes that article in _The All-Seeing Eye."_

A smile grew on O'Bannon's face. "Thanks, guys. You're friggin' awesome."

He looked around at the three purebloods, images of his friends from Britain forming in his mind. He still missed them a lot. Hell, they'd become more than friends. They'd been a team.

Luckily, he had another team here in America.

Confidence rose inside him. No matter what happened down the road, he knew he could face it so long as he had Rosa, Jared and Artimus by his side.

_**THE BEGINNING**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE: <strong>_What's in store now for Jimmy and his friends? Find out in their further adventures, all currently posted on fanfiction-dot-net. Here they are in order . . ._

"_Air of Disharmony"_

"_Dark Horizon"_

"_Midnight's Blood"_

"_In the Grip of Darkness Part I"_

"_In the Grip of Darkness Part II"_

_Enjoy._

_Be sure to check out my original novel "Sea Raptor." Ex-Army Ranger Jack Rastun must stop a sea monster's deadly rampage along the Jersey Shore. Available at Amazon._


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